Small Stream Fishing

It takes but a moment next to the burbling, rushing water to be immersed in the sound and mesmerized by the sight of it. The scent of the water, the soil, and the forest completes the immersion. It wraps around my body, invading every cell, obliterating everything except this moment. The rest of the world falls away, disappears, and I’m absorbed into the earth and water as if I were always there, with no thought of ever leaving or being anything else.

I could let go of my body, emotions, and the earth itself and fall into the river, softly, soundlessly, instantly absorbed by the rushing current, welcomed as if coming home at last. Overwhelming— enveloping— peace and comfort. I could be the water, rushing over the rocks, my laughter splashing and catching the sunlight and throwing it around as reflections.

Instead, I continue to cast my line upstream and let it float down past me, over the rocks, in hopes that a trout will bite. I walk downstream to each likely looking spot thinking that there must be a fish next to that rock or in that eddy. I cast as close as I can without getting tangled in the low branches that hang over the giggling water. No fish bite today. I reel in my line and lean the pole against the rock I’m sitting on. A slight breeze makes the branches whisper and the sunlight dance in patches. I breathe the fresh air, bat the mosquitoes, and get lost in my thoughts.  It will be time to leave soon enough. 

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