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To the ones that fly fish...
Why must we answer the call of the water? Is it the feeling success as the slime runs through your fingertips as your so sought after beast returns to its depths? Or maybe it’s the challenge that presents itself on that misty cool morning, as the sun crests the untouched cliff? Is it the sound of the riffle? Or the feeling of the cold, intense pressure against the neoprene in your boots? Is it the sight of the brown trout, sipping your caddis from the meniscus of the surface? Maybe it’s the rush of endorphins that starts in your guts and quickly jets to the feeling of cork in your palm? The undeniable shake of the head, that quiver that deminishes the doubt. Or Could it be the solitude of each and every moment? Each moment spent somewhere in between being thankful to be alive and the anticipation of what lies beneath the next false cast? Maybe it’s each of these perspectives, all of the emotions rolled into the tailing loop of a perfect cast. Or just maybe, a unique and interdependent emotion....Mother sure has her way connecting, making one feel present and at the same time ever so distant. The feeling of being near and ever so far is her unique choice and yet give us grounded folk the feeling of content. Maybe, answering the call of the water isn’t a choice after all? Maybe it’s a yearning and a necessity. A deep diaphragmatic breath that fills your lungs, mind and dare I say soul to the edge of life. One moment passes and yet your still there. Feeling, hoping, longing for more of this so called life. This grounding provides me another day, another journey. I am alive!
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