A trout once told me that expectation is nothing more than premeditated failure. The Trout went on to say that I should know better then to assume that my fly is ever taken on the account of my ability to fool or trick; after all I’m only throwing feathers into the water, and what kind of creature falls for that sort of nonsense? It seems the kind of wisdom the trout has to teach us is not just relegated to animals that swim. William Butler Yeats expressed the thoughts of a crane in the following way:
It’s certain there are trout somewhere
And maybe I shall take a trout
If but I do not seem to care.
And maybe I shall take a trout
If but I do not seem to care.
Clearly the more intelligent of the two here is the fish, the bird however has a really good attitude. I often wonder if perhaps we’d be happier monkeys if we took our cues from the other animals. The trout I find, if anything, seems to be a lot more at peace than myself, but the crane as a fellow fishermen, has a lot to teach us about not only expectation but also about ‘being in the moment’. There is an olde Zen saying that goes: ‘when you’re doing the dishes, do the dishes’. Certainly fly-fishing is more complex if not more fun than doing the dishes, but both tasks require a full focus if the job is going to get done. The truth is, as people we live our lives distracted. Many if not all of our distractions I’d argue, are self-generated. We live in the past, we live in the future, and for all of that living we’re doing ahead and behind, I wonder how much living is leftover for the here and now.
Fly-fishing, if you’ve ever done it, certainly centers you in the present. You simply have to be present, as there are a
considerable number of details to attend to. If you’re off somewhere else you’re going to have a rough go of it. The details end up doing the grounding for you. In short your focus is at hand. If its not the fly, the knot, the water conditions, precarious wading about, then it’s the fish, who as I’ve pointed out, may or may not grace you with it’s presence. If you’ve an instant gratification sort of person with a short attention span, that is to say a catch oriented type, you probably won’t stay with fishing very long. I might add this sort of disposition is likely to give you troubles outside the realm of the river—fortunately there are psychologists in the world who are not as stern as the trout.
The details… the hypnotic quality of the water and the general beauty of nature have a tendency to center us in the moment. But I don’t think fishing is an escape…far from it in fact. Fly-fishing if done in a meditative manner, free from goal direction and without expectation becomes ars gratia artis (this of course is
what we’d like the trout to believe). This sort of approach in all honesty helps us cultivate a sense of peace, not just while we are fishing proper, but later back in our busier lives. If we fish for its own sake then we are more likely to appreciate ‘the beautiful’ and sometimes expansive details that are all around us when we’re fishing—you know like the sky.
The mind most days is a jumble, and being able to bring some peace and grounding to it is a useful skill. John Muir, when speaking of the psychological benefits of nature said that, “you have to go out in order to go in.” Introspecting and more importantly gaining insight about ourselves is much more fruitful if we can do it from a quiet place. You have to go out in order to go fishing. To me there is something extra about interacting with nature via fishing that adds a symbolic richness to the Zen-like experience of “being out there in it.” Water in many traditions has been thought of as a symbol or metaphor for consciousness. The medium of water itself is kind of like a thought really. Thoughts like water change phase. Thoughts are mutable. They can be hard, barely there, and often they are fluid. What lies below the surface of the water, and at its depths is anyone’s guess. Down there in the unconscious fathoms wild thoughts can live--beautifully colored creative thoughts; rainbow, brown, red or even golden ones swim below. And if you’re thoughtful fishermen, I think you may find that wisdom like pearls and trout never cease to amaze us anytime we happen upon one.
--Posted by David
considerable number of details to attend to. If you’re off somewhere else you’re going to have a rough go of it. The details end up doing the grounding for you. In short your focus is at hand. If its not the fly, the knot, the water conditions, precarious wading about, then it’s the fish, who as I’ve pointed out, may or may not grace you with it’s presence. If you’ve an instant gratification sort of person with a short attention span, that is to say a catch oriented type, you probably won’t stay with fishing very long. I might add this sort of disposition is likely to give you troubles outside the realm of the river—fortunately there are psychologists in the world who are not as stern as the trout.
The details… the hypnotic quality of the water and the general beauty of nature have a tendency to center us in the moment. But I don’t think fishing is an escape…far from it in fact. Fly-fishing if done in a meditative manner, free from goal direction and without expectation becomes ars gratia artis (this of course is
what we’d like the trout to believe). This sort of approach in all honesty helps us cultivate a sense of peace, not just while we are fishing proper, but later back in our busier lives. If we fish for its own sake then we are more likely to appreciate ‘the beautiful’ and sometimes expansive details that are all around us when we’re fishing—you know like the sky.
The mind most days is a jumble, and being able to bring some peace and grounding to it is a useful skill. John Muir, when speaking of the psychological benefits of nature said that, “you have to go out in order to go in.” Introspecting and more importantly gaining insight about ourselves is much more fruitful if we can do it from a quiet place. You have to go out in order to go fishing. To me there is something extra about interacting with nature via fishing that adds a symbolic richness to the Zen-like experience of “being out there in it.” Water in many traditions has been thought of as a symbol or metaphor for consciousness. The medium of water itself is kind of like a thought really. Thoughts like water change phase. Thoughts are mutable. They can be hard, barely there, and often they are fluid. What lies below the surface of the water, and at its depths is anyone’s guess. Down there in the unconscious fathoms wild thoughts can live--beautifully colored creative thoughts; rainbow, brown, red or even golden ones swim below. And if you’re thoughtful fishermen, I think you may find that wisdom like pearls and trout never cease to amaze us anytime we happen upon one.
--Posted by David
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