Gone Fishin’

Gone Fishin’

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I used to fish from time to time. Not like Bill Dance or anything, just head off by myself to the bank of some pond or perhaps, if I was really lucky, climb into a flat-bottom boat that might happen to be hidden in the weeds at whatever hole I was bumming around at. I do not know how to tie a Carolina, Texas, Massachusetts or any other state rig. I am not real sure what a lunker lure is and to be honest most of the time I did not even have a license.  My weapon of choice was most often the rubber worm. This was a simple bait and I assumed it must surely be the ultimate enticement for that wall hanger lurking in the shallows.  I fished like I live, not looking to complicate the thing and taking whatever was thrown at me. There seemed to be a little wisdom in doing it like that.image

strength and toning equipment

For whatever reason, I seldom go fishing anymore.  Life gets full and sometimes activities are culled.  Often I think back on those carefree days of my youth. It did not matter how long I went without a bite, there was time to think on life while I was there.  I have seen many beautiful places but there is nothing quite like floating around on a pond in north Alabama as the sun sets.  I sometimes watch the professionals on television. They catch some amazing fish.  I wonder though, if sometimes, it becomes a chore to them.  It seems to me that sometimes they complicate such a natural thing.  That’s how we humans are.  We find something beautiful that we really enjoy and then, if we are not careful, we choke the life out of it.

Boat on pond

I run in the rat race just like some of you.  I watch daily as people make a mad dash to their place of employment, many of whom are applying make-up or texting as they go.  This is how it is, we say, and keep our heads down and continue plowing.  We are stressed to the point of poor health and even senseless anger toward our fellow human beings.  I find myself at odds with humanity sometimes also.  Maybe I have left off those simple things that used to bring me joy.  Perhaps modern man, with his zeal for attainment, has lost sight of something that the ancients understood.  The key to life might not be found in how much stuff I can pile up.  I am getting older ( I have only done this as of late) and it seems to me that the answer is not far away.  The truth to life is at the fishing hole.

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