Zen and the art of fly fishing

Went to the lake again last night, and while it was perhaps too hot for the fish to bite in the shallows where I can reach them, or the breeze was a little too stiff and on-shore, you couldn't have dragged me away. There is something deeply spiritual about fly fishing. The more time I spend by and in the water the happier I feel. It is as if it fills me up, satisfying some ancient desire and leaving me exhausted but complete. There was a moment last night, just before the sun set andthe moon had risen and turned a boxwood yellow, that was so inexpressibly beautiful that it was almost too much to comprehend. I found a spot behind some fir trees where casting was almost imossible save for a small hollow beneath a weeping willow and as the sun sank threw my line out where the insects were congregating in the last heat of the day. It's strange to think that for me fly fishing has little or nothing to do with actually catching fish, instead, catching a fish is something that you have to justify to yourself if the art of what you are doing measures itself against the mindset of the moment with no remainder. The repetitive motion of casting the line, the gather and retreive, forces your mind to wander, and if met by a beautiful scene when in the right state of mind, creates a euphoria akin to something approaching what I can only think to describe as a spiritual experience. It's no wonder that people fill these moments with thoughts of God, only something as awesome as a God power would seem to justify it, but for me the awe alone is Godly. I must be the same for sailors, mountaineers, hikers, or any person who appreciates the natural world via a pursuit that requires them to interact to understand. Your mind has to be occupied by some involved but related task in order for the scene to truly fill you. I get the same feeling looking at the sea; the space and the assumed depths are sublime but reassuring. For me there is nothing worse that sitting by a man made pond fishing for the sole purpose of dragging a fish from the water, I'd rather be in a nice place and catch nothing that sit by a concrete hole in the ground missing the point. Solitude, space and sublimity. Before too long you start thinking about the important people in your life, those who you've lost and who are no longer with you, whispering across the water.

And after a day of fishing I get the best kind of sleep.