It's been a few days since I last posted here. The few of you who may frequent this blog might have spent a nanosecond or two wondering...
I was going to start this out with something about the ongoing changes we all progress through as the days roll past. Maybe something about yeah, I don't now where they go, why they go by so fast, or where they keep coming from(maybe connect it somehow to my fishing). But sometimes, for reasons I begin to understand, those days that stretch out in front of us tend to demand a little more attention, a fact that is not always apparent when we are totally submerged in our presents.
But, as I started to compose, I had a simple epiphany. Epiphany is a grossly overused word these days, and we all know what it means, and also where it originated, but that's what it was.
I'd been reading some of my earlier posts, partly to insure that I did not plagiarize myself but mostly because although unconscious of it, I was already in the early stages of a significant realization; a slow awakening culminating in that 'epiphany'.
There are countless passions. It is hoped by this writer that indeed everyone should have the opportunity to discover and cultivate theirs. Those of us who have found that priceless treasure certainly know what I speak of. I've always thought that upon closer inspection those of us bequeathed with this special gift might stand out from the rest, and I believe that more now than ever. There is this viable, palpable ambience to them that sooner or later shows itself to me as I get to know them, no matter what it is they are impassioned with. There is an energy emerging from them, a focus on horizons unseen by most. It is what drives them, no matter that they may be involved with be there a hundred or a thousand different arenas in their lives. I am in awe of the magic it brings to their lives because I know. I live with and for that same magic.
I sat at my vise the other day, as I do so often. Not there for any other reason than to enjoy a few odd moments just poking through the plethora of materials I might employ. Ideas spill forth as my fingers explore the textures and contours, my eyes drawn this way and that. All of this inviting me to scheme, or re-live events, to cast into futures. A few idle moments turns into time passed. Time was when it was time lost. Not anymore. It is precious time. I cannot have it back, and yet, it gives me back so much in return that I might never fully comprehend its value.
There are thousands of us who fish with flies, and countless reasons why we do. That some of us have found something so much deeper in the simple act of casting a fly to riseform speaks volumes about the art.
It is our heart talking to us when we find it, in the perfect, sweet language of clarity, and passion. It deems us valuable and pertinent. It provides us with sanctity and vision.
That was my epiphany, and I will hold this close to me, now, as my years flow slowly past. It is my safe, warm place. It is where I can go no matter how far I may roam, or how close I choose not to be.
And I sincerely hope that you have found yours.