(And Friends Too!)
A family that fishes together, stays together
We've all been there...lost staring at our computer (through it, really) or into the abyss somewhere...pondering this life and what it means...tripping out on how things change or don't...wondering where time went and how to best spend it now...
It's a sometimes heavy idea. It's easy to get lost in the murkiness if you allow it. What it all means to you is personal...for me, I've found that it's best to keep it simple: I do what I do for the love of family and my passions. That keeps me upright and focused. It keeps me in the zone. And that's why I have the best excuse in the world to be outside as much as possible...to hike and fish and ski and travel...for the love of family and my passions.
I'd venture to say that for the majority of you reading this little ditty, your sentiments are akin to mine. That we seek nature and its joys and wonders and overwhelming power to center us and to also unite us, friends and family alike, in our sacred admiration for said power...to come together in commune in her beauty and brilliance.
I want you to think about your family...think about your friends (perhaps your friends have become your family and it's all the same)... hold that image and feeling in your mind... think about the best memories you have with them...how your relationships have evolved and shifted over time. This can be a strange exercise as it emphasizes the ebb and flow and shifting that is life. The only real constant is change though, right?
For me, and for many of you, you'll find a lot of those best memories are centered around the great outdoors. I have so many unbelievable memories of camping with my family as a child...of renting a tin can of a boat with a 5hp twist throttle mounted on back and whirring (a very generous term) around Georgetown Lake, MT with my dad and an ultralight spin-rod with yellow and red Panther Martin dangling from the end. So many of my best thoughts and recollections involve a snow-covered cabin sitting around in marvelous conversation with my brothers after a day on the slopes or sitting in a small-town cafe still soaked from the river.
This is just another reason that I marvel at mother nature and her awesomeness. I can't help but revel in the notion that, not only can I be alone in a wooded glade, on a lake shore, near a roaring river, or on a sandy beach and feel so much freaking connected-ness and inner peace, but I can step outside my selfish interaction with her and dwell in the commonality and kinship she brings in sharing her with others.
I just simply find it amusing...the flow of life....the different paths we all choose (and we do choose them)...the different stories we hold dear as our personal script.... I marvel at how some of my brothers and I have stayed close in our pursuits or business and others have chosen different paths.
And none of it is right or wrong...it just is. Don't get me wrong, it's not like I don't ever see some of my family...I do...I choose to make sure we connect from time to time in one way or another. But it's rather spectacular how, though life looks quite different in many ways and somewhat similar in others, no matter where we are in our journey, the outdoors still brings us together as if no time has passed in between. Its as if we were just ten years old the other day, camping in the mountains above our hometown, casting red humpies and yellow stimulators into the creek and today we are all college grads, business owners, workforce laborers, and some even fathers, telling stories of the past at lunchtime in the driftboat or around the campfire after a long, cold day of hard steelheading.
I guess that's what it feels like when you're in the flow, though...like this moment is as enjoyable as the next and the next and pretty soon you look back to see a wonderful string of moments from here to further than the eye can see. Kinda reminds me to stay humble and loving and gracious and joyous in every moment and to make sure we all meet here in God's sanctuary as much as possible.
Cheers,
Nic