Surface Tension

Tiny mayflies of the river float on the surface sustained by the surface tension of water. Their survival, and the survival of the trout, depends on that surface tension.

Symbolically speaking, I feel I am sustained by living in the existential tension of life. I live in the tension of unanswered questions and not quite knowing where I belong.

At times I float, at other times I feel as though I am sinking.

Unanswered questions: Who am I? What is the meaning of my life?  “God, is that you who sustains me”?

The tension is sustained by not being certain.

What Emerges?

 

After writing Bringing Back Eden: Meditations of a Fly Fisher, I now reflect upon what I wrote. I ask, What was I thinking?  What was I trying to say? What story was trying to emerge?

What emerged was a book about fly fishing that ended up being very existential.  I was painfully repetitive asking those same old questions: Who am I? Where do I belong?  Where is God? Does God intervene in my life? Where is home, the Eden of my youth?

I repeatedly describe casting and casting as a reaching out, hoping for some kind of a response from the fish (as though they are personally responsible for my well being). I describe a deep inner loneliness that was both a painful and beautiful experience, reminding me of my deepest longings.

In the beginning of the book I describe myself as a disillusioned Christian. Yet how can I call myself Christian when I write and talk more like an existentialist and I am more disillusioned than believing? I am more critical than affirming. I live in angst more than in peace. Yet, I can’t throw it all away.  

I describe feeling mesmerized by my own existence. I question what was I doing walking around that pond in northern New Jersey all by myself teaching myself to fly fish? What was I truly seeking? What did I want?  Did I exist merely on  the banks of the pond  or did Something else sustain me?

I live in and upon the tension of the questions and the mystery of my life. I continue to question. I continue to cast into mysteries and I invite others to do the same.

To me, this is what it means to be deeply and truly human.

I Dropped Out Of Social Media: Do I Still Exist?

I dropped out of social media for a while. Do I still exist?

It is a strange illusion. Did I really think I could exist by posting my thoughts and pictures on line?

Sometimes things happen in life that challenge my sense of self and those old questions nag me; Who am I? Do I truly exist?  Do I truly belong?

Since I was a child fly fishing has helped me with these existential concerns. Even now when some of  the people I loved are no longer here, and I feel lost,  returning to the river can ease my pain helping me regain who I am.

As the poet Rilke says, "And if the earthly no longer knows your name, whisper to the silent earth: I'm flowing. To the flashing water say: I am." 

I stand in the river casting in the flowing, flashing river and I remember him.

I whisper, I still am. I still exist.

 

Decker's South Platte Fish Rising into Fall

Fish are rising in the Deckers area up and down the river. Fish are rising to some late tricos, PMD's BWO's, and midges. Drifts must be perfect. Hook sets must be timed perfectly and gently.

What River Is This?

This is the lower Frying Pan River several miles above the town of Basalt.

The Fish that Got Away From Us.

There was one fish that got away; a marvelous fish that will forever haunt me. I had it in reach but did not understand or properly calculate its movements or the depth of what it was thinking and feeling. If only;  if only the fish had not moved toward the rocks and the chute of no return, I may have had a chance.  There were so many what if’s.

I misjudged the infinite distance between us, even as I felt close. All I know now is that it can never return up the Chute to the place I once casted my line.  There can be no re-do’s or second casts.

The fish and the river cascades on down the canyon as I stand watching and asking the same hard questions over and over again;  as I will this Fall,  and winter, and Spring.

Finding Fish at Deckers.