Damn you he said as he slowly reeled in the broken leader on his rod. I had ya. I was just a tad from reeling you in. If it wasn’t for the line breaking, I woulda had ya this time. But don’t think you won. Maybe this time, but you need to be know-in this is just another round. You know I’ll be back and you better be ready.
Chuckling to himself, he slowly packed up his gear and, giving one last look at the lake he had spent his life on, moved toward the little cabin he called home. Actually, the only home he had ever known. Born here sixty plus years ago, he had helped his folks work this land. But, over time, the land had become his. First, his mother had died of the pox. Then his daddy took ill and a year later, he lost him too.
That was a long time ago, but to him, it seemed like yesterday. Oh, don’t get me wrong. Life started here and this is where it stayed. This is where he belonged. This is where he had always grasped the freedom of the environment. Livin off the land he called it. A holy man by his upbringing, he would always thank the Lord for the abundance He had provided.
Arriving at the cabin, he stashed his gear, his thoughts returning to the fish that had gotten away, again. It was the same fish that always seemed to get away. He swore that he had “almost” caught him on many earlier occasions, only to be outsmarted.
Easing into one of the only chairs in the room, he reflected on the years now gone. The isolation that he had grown up with and embraced yet again today. The comfort he experienced here in the woods. The simplicity of his life provided by Mother Nature. That which he had come to love and, as such, embrace. Slowly, he leaned back in his chair and, eyes closing, drifted into sleep..
One of the beauties of the cabin was that it was built facing the East with the lake as it’s front yard. As the sun rose in the morning it bounced off the soft chop of the lakes ripples, and cascaded through the two windows of the cabin. The new day while providing light, also provided an awakening hard to ignore, like an embryo, bursting into a newly created life.
Such was the next morning Upon awakening, he embraced the sun blatantly forcing itself upon him, creeping unashamedly across the blankets of his bed. It was a time for acknowledging the new day. A time to access his environment, once again, and appreciate that which had been his good fortune to possess. Rising, he looked out a window at the morning. The lake, softly caressing the shore, invited him to join it, explore it, and yes, fish it.
With that in mind, he stoked the wood cook stove and, when hot, took a couple of eggs from his laying hens, and a couple of strips of salted pork and prepared breakfast. Today’s chores would consume most of his day, but he always tried to leave enough time to dip his line in the lake. “He is out there and he is waiting for me” he would fantasize.
As the days shadows grew longer, with a weary body, he returned to the cottage. He had spent most of the day in the garden, weeding, trimming, and watering while collecting the vegetables that were ready to pick. Carrying his yield back home, he placed them in the sink and rinsed them, leaving them to dry. He had some rabbit that had been preserved which would, with the vegetables, provide a flavorful stew.
After prepping the evening dinner, he grabbed his fishing pole and headed for the lake. Today would be the day, he laughed because he always said that. Today I win he thought, without much confidence. As he approached the lake, he put down his tackle box and set about repairing his broken line. “That fish is bigger then I thought”. I need a stronger leader and a lot of patience . I’m learning his tricks. Soon, he will be mine.
His first cast coincided with the first glimpse of nightfall. The sun, still radiant, was slowly surrendering to the evening. Shadows began to fall across the lake. He cast several times and it was as if the fish decided to ignore him. He was about to call it a day when he got his first strike. A strong one. Playing him out he slowly eased him toward the shore, As the fish leapt above the water he was elated to see it was the prize he had been seeking for so long. Quickly, he prepared himself for the fight he knew was about to begin. Minutes went by as they equally accessed their situations. The fisher and the fish, both providing a strength of purpose, anticipating a successful end.
The sun began to dip, making it more difficult to counteract the movements of the fish. But, it was still there. Thrashing below and above the foam it created. He, all his instincts alerted, remained stalwart, sweat wetting his brow. “Not this time” he vowed. Minutes passed, evening descending. Shadows drifting aimlessly across the lake. He knew that soon, he would no longer be able to see his fish. He had to keep on. This was the closest he had ever come.
Minutes turned into a half hour as the two battled. He and the fish were both adamant. But he felt as if the fish was growing tired and he continued with a renewed faith. On the battle went, each applying their own tactics. Neither willing to admit defeat.
He wasn’t aware when it happened, but he suddenly knew that the fish he so desired was beginning to provide less fight. Thankful for that, as he himself was tiring and close to conceding, sinking to the ground, Indian style, hoping to outlast his competitor.
Soon, he realized that he was experiencing only tacit resistance. Reeling in his line was without much resistance. And finally, the fish he had sought for so long was his. Bringing him in and netting him was his ultimate success. Reaching into the net, he picked up the fish and felt a moment of elation. He had won the fight. He was the victor.
He admired his catch for several minutes, reminding himself how long it had taken him to catch him. Basking in his success so to speak. But then, a second emotion encompassed him. One of sadness that the tryst was over. They had been competitors for so long, each seeking to elude the others venue, both proud to be able to escape the wishes of the other.. They were both survivors, both with a will to survive. Both with a desire to live within their chosen environment. He found he had to respect that.
Looking at him up close, eye to eye, he thought how much alike they were. They both had a strong will to live, a desire to survive, to exist. He thought about how hard this fish had fought to thwart his efforts to subdue him. It was only after multiple encounters that he had prevailed. However, he thought, I have not won. I have simply outlasted the strength of another. His desires, as I held him in my hands, have not diminished. He fought for his freedom just as I embrace my own. He values his environment as much as I value my own.
Life, it seems has a purpose and a plan. Who we are is a given. How we live it is the question. With that in mind, he gently removed his hook and allowed the fish to silently slip back into his world.
Anything that is of value in life only multiplies when it is given.
Deepak Chopra
“
oldmainer 
Transferring The Blame
Recently, I have been sitting in the bleachers, watching with a mixture of concern and amusement at the college protests that have been so prevalent in the news, regardless of where you access it. Students, (and I use that term loosely) milling around complexes without a clue about the issue. Why is that?
Well, I think it is because they had no time or interest in studying history in high school, and why they are able to attend a university that can provide them with the knowledge they don’t currently possess and apparently spurn . They cleave to the largest crowd because there is a deep desire to belong. This is a group of people that are where they are because mom and dad could afford to send them there. They were ill educated when they graduated from high school, and they are far from being educated today. Time spent in the ivy towers has not impacted on them at all. They will meet reality only when they decide to find a job, assuming they ever do.
But, so far, I have focused only on the protesters. Forgotten or shoved aside are the multitudes of students that came to get an education. Those that are, in many cases, of an ethnic group that is being ostracized. The blame for anything that remotely touches on their history becomes a reason to criticize and persecute them.
History, it seems, is cyclical. Our country has had it’s share of ethnic and political issues. None greater than the Civil War, It appears we learned nothing. No, that is not correct. It appears that we remember nothing. Hate for another for no other reason then a view, or a vision, still raises its ugly head. Compromise has become an obsolete word. Gaming is a lot easier. Fool the other guy instead of speaking with him. Today, it has nothing to do with the direction we pursue, but only the destination.
Wars are normally fought between two opposing forces. It appears that our leaders, our elected advocates so to speak, have adorned the armor of controversy, mounting an offense or defense to virtually everything. And while doing this, choose to focus on the failure (real or imagined) of the opposing force.
There was a time when men had the internal strength, with words and knowledge, to vanquish their foe. Communication was their weapon, compromise their tool. It has been said that the average age of a democracy is 200 years, after which, it will destroy itself. Well, I hope that is wrong since we now find ourselves somewhere around 248 years since the Declaration of Independence in 1776. But it also appears that we are, in fact, destroying ourselves.
Our country is failing it would seem, and I don’t see the same pride of freedom that created it. I don’t see the same desire to protect that which is ours. I don’t even see an interest to protect our country from crime within. We have become complacent. Those of you that have been around for a while will understand. They will remember the family members that were lost because of their resolve that the freedoms that we enjoy today were not free. They were won. Words were replaced by actions and beliefs. Beliefs that maintaining freedom would require more then protests. It would require action.
Today, it appears that it is much easier to hate then it is to try to communicate, much less act. Much easier to hate then to educate ourselves about an issue before choosing protest as the weapon of choice. I’m not expecting much however from those raising their voices to champion a new tomorrow without a clue of what they are doing to our today. Possessing a void relative to how democracy was established or how we got this far and have survived. They are young, and unfortunately ,attracted to the next crowd that makes a lot of noise.
“Democracy is not just about majority rule; it’s about protecting the rights and dignity of minorities.” Jimmy Carter
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