August 1, 2011 by elisabethbee
I went fishing in Eastern Washington near Cle Ellum – the Teanaway. The most beautiful possible summer day – warm, not hot – astoundingly blue sky. I live in Western Washington. The halves of the state differ by rain fall – it all tends to fall on the west – stopped by the Cascades – so that on east side the small river runs, as it would on the west side, cold, fast and clean, but it surrounded by banks of large needled pines and dry grass. There is an open understory unlike the crowded cedars, firs and drooping hemlocks to the west.
I did not get to fish last year but three times – my summer was taken up by other tasks. Not only that but the first time I did my car was broken into. Even this summer I have been occupied with getting my house ready to try and sell in the most depressed housing market of the century. I might not sell it after all…
So here I was at last, the tail end of July 2011, in welcoming waters – second cast and a willing cut-throat was on my attractor fly. So small I don’t even use my reel, just lay the rod down and pull the five inch fish in by hand – wetting them now that he is within reach to not disturb the ‘slime’ I pull the hook out with the forceps as quickly as possible. It’s been a very long time – but it’s all here in my motor memory – reading the water, walking in the river, reading the water again, casting, watching the float, looking for what might be a strike and setting the hook. I don’t even have to think. My mind goes blissfully blank as I walk, cast to likely places and catch and release beautiful fish. They are mine for a moment – we meet and separate. I am the Zen master of my thoughts while fly-fishing.
But when I’m back to my day to day routine I often begin to feel that life is so dismal and I wonder if I want to live at all. I’ve found the transition very difficult from the sublime times of doing anything so engrossing like fishing or working on my art, riding my new bicycle or going to my dance class. I enter that state where the self disappears – the state of flow –where the activity is greater than the self and I am at peace because there is no me. But again, coming out, then there seems to be only me and that great sense of pointlessness and that leads to depression and even suicidal thoughts.
My therapist suggests that I try to remember on the river how the me actually feels – kind of ease the transition back to my awareness from the state of flow – go into the wonder of fishing, but not leave my troubles too far behind else the pain of picking them up again will feel too great.
I got to a deep pool – not very big – but deep. It was at the bottom of a small fall. I had only about ten feet of distance for the float before the fly would come to a log that I didn’t want to hook – the presentation had to be just right in the fast water – I might get three or four chances but that would be all.
I didn’t really have to think too much about it – I just knew how to stalk this unseen fish, to position myself in the river to approach the sweet spot where he would be feeding in the seam of the current – I worked my way down the opposite riffle so I could fish upstream a little – that would create the least drag – and just cast. It was all perfect, the hook set and the rod bent.
I reasoned it must be the speed of the water that was causing the pull as I got this fish on the reel and played him right and left pulling him in towards me and walking towards him where the line was in the water so I could get him out quickly and return him safely.
As I got closer I realized the pull was not the current – it was a fairly large fish! I played him into the slower water so as to not hurt him and get a good look. Most of these trout fit easily into my small hands but this one was fat. I laid him out in my hand from finger-tip down past my wrist. Then I let him go.
Now a nine inch fish might seem unimpressive, indeed, I’ve caught a seventy pound tarpon on a nine-weight fly rod, but that was in the Everglades and this cut-throat was a very large trout for this river and felt like a prize. Like something precious had been given to me. But I considered it was not effortless – how long have I spent on these small rivers? I’ve been fly-fishing now twenty-four years – and sixteen of them on shallow sweet small rivers, rivers that an unassuming and short woman can wade safely. I had the skills. I own them, they are part of me.
So I was glad for the fish too numerous to keep count of that day. But I did as it was suggested and took time to remember – to take into account the things that were making me feel sad so that these disparate realities could be true at the same time. And it was a good thing. The wonder of my fish and the automatic way in which I found him had no less glory. Nor did the pain of my everyday life away from the river grow any less woeful – but the gap between them began to close.
Posted in feelings, fish, fly-fishing, mindfulness, nature, trout, writing | Tagged compassion, doubt, experience, felt-states, fish, fishing, fly-fishing, learning, lessons, life, mindfulness, musings, observations, recollections, rivers, seasons, self, short stories, thoughts, time, writing, zen | 3 Comments »
July 20, 2011 by elisabethbee
on hay-bale box-seats
in nocturnes
lost
enclosed day turns dreamy night
yet, birds sing
outside
still light
this music
played through life-times
notes and rests
melody and themes
intended images and dreams
now in audience
tactile, tangible
in time
your real
hearing
witnessing mine
Posted in art, birds, discovery, feelings, mindfulness, nature, poetry, realization, time | Tagged art, compassion, doubt, experience, felt-states, learning, lessons, life, love, memories, mindfulness, musings, observations, poems, poetry, recollections, remembering, short poems, thoughts | 2 Comments »
June 20, 2011 by elisabethbee
june cloudy after rain evening
red red geraniums
kiss’t by hummingbird’s
beak
unseen wings beating
in time
beyond belief
my footfalls on the poach
send him
flashing figure eights
iridescent bottle green
around the yard
i turn my key
Posted in birds, discovery, feelings, joy, metaphor, mindful, nature, poems, poetry, realization, stories, time, writing | Tagged compassion, doubt, experience, felt-states, garden, learning, lessons, life, memories, mindfulness, musings, observations, poems, poetry, recollections, remembering, seasons, self, short poems, summer, thoughts, time, writing | Leave a Comment »
June 9, 2011 by elisabethbee
sultry new summer air
I swim through
currents of cool
or warm and wetter
embrace me
june’s breath
Posted in discovery, feelings, joy, metaphor, mindful, mindfulness, nature, poems, poetry, realization, trail, walking | Tagged compassion, doubt, experience, felt-states, learning, life, mindfulness, musings, observations, poems, poetry, recollections, seasons, self, short poems, thoughts, time, writing | 2 Comments »
June 2, 2011 by elisabethbee
young rabbit
chewing leaves
under a wet weeping willow
7:04 am june 2, 2011
i get into my dry car
and go to work
Posted in discovery, feelings, joy, metaphor, mindful, mindfulness, nature, poems, poetry, realization, time, writing, zen | Tagged compassion, doubt, experience, felt-states, garden, learning, lessons, life, mindfulness, musings, observations, poems, poetry, recollections, seasons, self, short poems, spring, thoughts, time, writing, zen | 3 Comments »
May 13, 2011 by elisabethbee
1
This tall tree
dams the river where it fell
across
gravity
pushes pulls a new
path around
water’s weight and
flow
prevail
2
tiny
rufous hummingbird
repeatedly throws itself, thumps
against nest’s nearby windows
fearing self’s reflection
as other
repeats
protective instinctive reaction
towards self-destruction
or
must
move away and turn, turn
turn a new direction
3
finally May first
the earth inhales the sun
relaxes
– no longer
stiff contracted and protected from
the cold and dark –
branches release their reserves
exhaling
leaves and flowers
4
cleaning my house
i let go
the weight of
too many
precious possessions
to protect
possibilities abound
in
clean and empty space
5
May sun
high noon
breaks bright through grey clouds
reflections
refracted off water drops
hanging
saturated segmented serrated
needles and leaves
wet
concrete ground
each layered surface shining
enlightened
before the rain
returns
washing the world
dull without dimension
Posted in birds, bridges, discovery, feelings, joy, metaphor, mindful, mindfulness, nature, pictures, poems, poetry, realization, rivers, sadness, time, writing | Tagged art, blogging, compassion, doubt, experience, felt-states, garden, learning, lessons, life, memories, mindfulness, musings, observations, poems, poetry, recollections, rivers, seasons, self, short poems, spring, thoughts, time, writing | 4 Comments »
May 11, 2011 by elisabethbee
blue garbage truck
rainy day may
confetti’d with apple blossoms
Posted in discovery, feelings, joy, metaphor, mindful, nature, poems, poetry, realization, time, writing | Tagged aviation stories, compassion, doubt, experience, felt-states, learning, lessons, life, mindfulness, musings, observations, poems, poetry, recollections, remembering, seasons, self, short poems, spring, thoughts, time, writing | 1 Comment »
April 28, 2011 by elisabethbee
only this moment
eight o’clock
sunday, april 24, 2011
the daylight almost gone
my window
half glass
half mirror
face floating in the cedar
bedpost in the fern
chandelier hangs from budding branches
dusk dark lines
sprawling up
against the lambent sky
Posted in discovery, feelings, joy, metaphor, mindful, mindfulness, nature, poems, poetry, realization, time, writing | Tagged compassion, experience, felt-states, garden, learning, lessons, life, matrix, mindfulness, musings, observations, poems, poetry, seasons, self, short poems, spring, thoughts, time, writing | 3 Comments »
April 27, 2011 by elisabethbee
I think for me
that
a poem should hang
like a mobile
as the words twist
about
in juxtaposition,
but always in
balance.
Posted in discovery, mathematics, metaphor, mindful, pictures, poems, poetry, realization, writing | Tagged felt-states, learning, lessons, life, matrix, musings, observations, poetry, short poems, thoughts, writing | 3 Comments »
April 23, 2011 by elisabethbee
cut pink tulips
your gift
strong stems
slipped slowly into
my sliver vase
spiraling green sword
leaves
five days after
stems pulling water
overextended reaching
still growing
twisting towards April light
pale petals
opening, revealing
gesture gently
tips flushed
blushing crimson
soft kiss of spring
Posted in discovery, feelings, joy, love, metaphor, mindful, mindfulness, nature, poems, poetry, realization, time, writing | Tagged compassion, doubt, felt-states, learning, love, loving, mindfulness, musings, observations, poems, poetry, relationship, remembering, seasons, self, short poems, spring, thoughts, time, writing | 4 Comments »
Older Posts »