Stripping away the rose colored glasses of denial concerning my reality. Getting in touch with truth. Reaching out to others in empathy concerning their reality and their walk to truth.

Monday, July 7, 2008

Waiting on One

This is the luckiest man when it comes to fly fishing! He invites us down to his place once in a while and gloats when nobody has caught anything. Gloats! That's definitely the word.

I stood out in that water and it was cool... I mean temperature cool, for two hours. I had to stay a little closer to the shore because I don't swim. Finally I could not take it anymore so I stumbled over to the bank and sat down.

Meanwhile he's a bit miffed because he only has nine fish and there's no limit on how many he can take. Score-wise I'm the closet to him, with an "almost turtle snatch" and two tangled branches. "Here," he says and places some fish in my basket, "hang on to these. I need more room."

In the next hour and a half he landed 16 more, to which he says, "Okay I think we have enough for the grill." It was like watching a spider throw webbing as he whip, whip, whipped, the line above our heads.

Maybe I could have sketched the fishes, painted them on canvas, written a poem about a wayward fish, but the best I could was sit there: waiting on one.

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