Once, I was forced to put a wiggly worm onto a pointy hook and lower the line into a body of water. I didn’t much care for that activity, though sitting on the side of a river bank (or European canal) is very restful, indeed.
Might I try it, without the rod and reel?
Once, I thought an immersion tank would be a peaceful place to float about and feel nothing, or everything, or at least – catch a few winks.
A touch of claustrophobia and an aversion to shriveled fingers changed my mind on that particular notion, and I would politely decline the offer, even at this hectic stage of life.
I remind myself: The future takes root in each moment.
Consequently, there are present moments to tend to, and surely that will aid me in reconsidering the future – without the worm, without the water, and in some other more fruitful and fitting fashion for these next days, next weeks, and well, everything else.
That metro ticket that’s always in my pocket? I know exactly where it is, I am aware of its powers to transport and transform me, but I have no plans at present to skip over the ocean, or to skip the light fantastic for that matter, all flair for fine footwear aside.
Might I imagine myself in France, and thus achieve a measure of tranquility?
The fact is – I need to go fishing.
Virtually, literally, metaphorically.
I need to nail up a sign and shutter my doors, stash my laptop and rest my fingertips, still my mind and feel what I’m living. Ha! As if it were that simple!
Yet something inside is whispering, nagging, cajoling, coercing; slamming up against my own difficulty at saying STOP – when it comes to filling my days and nights with productivity. And I sense it’s time for that pause. Time to step back, to take a break, to break down – if necessary, in order to get back up again – stronger.
On a tangential note, I came across this – an article on the number of species that exist on Earth – explaining that previous guesses of 3 to 100 million species have now been “narrowed” to some 8.7 million. Be sure to check out the pictures of some of these undersea creatures – and note their diminutive dimensions! Remarkable.
Another article estimates that
91% of marine species remain undiscovered.
I find this fascinating to ponder, and strangely consoling. I like feeling smaller, less consequential, part of something larger, more organic, and more magical. Contemplating the millions of life forms on this planet helps me set aside my own tiny issues, reminding me to respect the bigger picture, and to anticipate that there is much to be seen, and much that we never can.
The immersion tank?
Don’t think so.
Paris to stroll the Seine?
Not in the budget.
Gone fishing?
Quite possibly, in some manner. And soon, I tell myself. But with a plan to catch nothing, and in so doing, to nourish everything.
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Good thing we can do all of these things in our mind.
So true. We are but small creatures. Have you seen the new (or not so new) diamond planet? I feel this way when I drive outside the city. A short trip to the mountains I am lucky enough to have near… away from the lights and sounds and stuffiness of the city. I actually like fishing which is strange because I cannot bait my own hook nor do I like to eat fish. But the serenity. I think you deserve a break. The train ride in and of itself no matter the destination can be refreshing. – from one claustrophobic to another.
I do love this idea of going fishing. Metaphorically. To give the brain, the body, the spirit a break–beyond even meditating. There is something peaceful with physical breaks. Perhaps your need comes from the big change in your life?
As for the species that exist on Earth, what an amazing number. I can’t imagine how many species I have not seen, first-hand, and the beauty each brings to this Earth. Like you, it makes me feel something beyond small, I feel part of a bigger picture–a science and evolutionary picture. It’s astounding and wonderful. Ben and I often talk of this, how knowing the vastness of the Universe does not make us feel unimportant, tiny, or any other adjectives we have often heard over our lives; instead, we are awe-struck thinking of the mechanisms it took to produce our lives, our highly intelligent species. Looking at the vast array of species–in all the varieties the Earth holds–leaves me breathless as I consider how close we all are on the evolutionary charts.
But that’s just the nerd in me. : )
It’s obvious you work too hard!! Go fishing one way or another!!
Oh, my friend, I know of where you speak. Don’t we all? We are so busy doing, we forget to be. Last Sunday when playing soccer I pulled my calf muscle. It hurt for three days and I really couldn’t walk. Someone upstairs was telling me to slow down or she’ll make me stop. I won’t have a choice. Of late (I like this better than lately), I’ve planted a garden and I watch the tomatoes turn red. I’ve painted outdoor furniture fun colors and I sit and watch my garden grow. I like being.
Piscatorial activity. My prescription exactly.
Thanks, Doc. 🙂
It’s often very difficult to take a break when the environment around you is the same, feeding you the same stimulus, and telling you to do. That’s why a change of scenery can be helpful to get you away from your normal routines. Since Paris is not in the budget, perhaps you could drive to a friend’s house. The change of environment will force you to change (hopefully to slow down) since you won’t have your usual chores, tasks, gadgets, and demands at hand. Good luck finding your fishing hole!
Thanks! (I like the idea of a friend’s house… that’s in the budget!)
Also in the budget (and doesn’t require gas) – my back deck with a book. It’s been a few years since I could do that, uninterrupted that is – even for a few hours! 🙂
Then there are the bills, the laundry, the everything… ugh… yep, that friend’s house sounds good!