Hit the water today in hopes of getting out of the house for a bit and catching some decent fish on the full moon. Fishing is what I did, bit catching was not really in the cards today. If I had hooked 1/4 of the fish I made contact with today, it would have been a spectacular Sunday. My timing was off, the fish were being funky, and I couldn't seem to keep them on the hook when I did poke one. It was like I couldn't quit get into that zone. The one where my sixth sense develops and I know a fish is gonna take the fly before I even see them. I just couldn't get there, everything seemed to be a struggle. Moving through the water, keeping droppers untangled, and staying out of the trees.

I spent a lot of the afternoon just enjoying being where I was, which is a good thing, seeing as the fish weren't co-operating. Earlier in life when having a day like today, I would become more focused and driven, trying to figure out what was going on and beating the hell out of the water, usually with negligible results. Today I just kinda ambled around some, casting now and then to likely spots, catching (missing) the occasional fish, but really soaking in my surroundings. The warm wind blowing downstream, enveloping me in the sticky smell of honey suckle blooming on the hill above me. Feeling the coolness of the water on my legs, while the sun beats down on my neck and fore arms, marveling at the beauty of a square tailed hawk as it silently glides through the forest canopy, majestic in all it's movements. Staring amazed at the whip like blooms of the galax waving in the wind like a fields of wheat.

Times like these make me contemplate life and all it's meanings and complexities. Our purpose and being, where we belong and what we do. I find a soothing simplicity to it all when I'm standing in the middle of stream, feeling it's power coursing around me. Strong enough to wear down rock, but yielding enough to give to my presence, if only for a fleeting moment. Streams are the places I go to to turn off, go into auto pilot. Sometimes they have the exact opposite effect, forcing me to recognize the unbelievable intricacy and purpose of life around me. Drawing me to find my purpose and place, my meaning for existence. Sometimes I feel like I'm looking at the answer, but I can't focus on it, like it's a note written in a language I don't understand. Painfully close, but still so far away. Far enough that it ceases to matter sometimes, for the very nearness of it makes me want to tear my hair out.

Every once in awhile, I get a clear glimpse of that answer. Never enough to see it in its entirety, but enough to re orientate myself back to true North. I sat for a bit, just watching the creek flow past me while gazing at a laurel bush in full bloom, contemplating, searching. I'd like to say that I found an answer while surrounded my so much inspiration and beauty, but it didn't come. Just that warm breeze, full of the sticky sweet smell of honey suckle.