All Things Beautiful

Sometimes words escape us, causing us to think a little harder. There are some things we cannot understand or put words to, but can be very familiar with. I am reffering to feelings. When a fish is caught on a fly rod, one has the pleasure of knowing that they did not catch that fish by luck, but by practice, methodical casting, and trying hard to think like the fish in the river they stand in. My somewhat recently new policy is catch and release unless I am camping, then the fish can be called supper. The other day I caught a hybrid and a rainbow trout within twenty minutes of eachother, on a dry fly while we are still deep in the nymph season. I was happy and impressed with my fish. I pondered on whether I should keep the rainbow, who was one hell of a good looking fish, or release him and hope that karma might grant me more in the near future. I let him go, and kept at it. When fishing, my thoughts are turned to other things at times, but I don't worry about them. Fly fishing makes it so I can look at my problems in a different light, one where I can see the blessings that come from my trials. I feel like everything will be alright when I'm on the river.