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.
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.
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.
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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