Ponderings

I wonder if anyone sees the rest of the world as I do? An amalgam of beautiful women, fishing flies, green leaves, and distorted personalities? Blame it on the web, they say, blame it on television. But the planes, tanks, and ships were not to blame for Nazism; they were just the most effective means of transporting it quickly and efficiently. No, I think our problems are rooted in something more complex than technology (although the all consuming force in revelations is fire, and electricity is a sort of fire). Luddites had it wrong, as did Rousseau. Man is not corrupted by society nor technology. Man is the corrupter. While capable of acts of true kindness and products of great beauty, man is truly the most dangerous life form. The fer-de-lance is only a footnote in the annals of fear; it is man who brings cruelty and torture into the world.

Man is driven by desire. Desire for objects, desire for wealth. Desire for beauty and beautiful things. Desire to succeed, and be better. Desire for self-awareness. Let us also not forget desire for the forbidden. This sometimes is so strong of a drive, the pursuit of it can actually be detrimental to other drives; it can be maladaptive. The Buddhists believe by removing desire, we can truly be free. But remember also mentioned self-awareness as a desire.

Many learned men have surmised that knowledge is they key to enlightenment. I would add the caveat that enlightenment can be attained through the acquisition of the proper knowledge. I mean we can know many things about evil, but that will not propel us into enlightenment. So too, will vast knowledge of the trivial and the mundane lead into a cul-de-sac of spiritual nothingness. No, we must seek knowledge that will create a sense of purpose, of betterment not only of ourselves, but of society at large.

“Truth is beauty, beauty truth….” Keats must have been a lonely man indeed.

I long for a sense of something real. Something that will make me want to wake in the morning, something that will keep my slumber at bay, even when utterly exhausted. Passion. Man needs passion to thrive. Notice I did not say survive. One can survive on water and sprouts, but will he be his most high self? Or will he become more through his search for other morsels? Many of us eat the sprouts and wish we had something more, but take no action to change the menu.

Pain is a tool. We learn from pain to avoid dangerous situations, and habits; we can use it to grow stronger.. One can use pain to help them grow much as a plant uses water to grow. As in all things, the key is moderation. A plant can be killed by too much water.

Much can be learned through reading. For all my research on the desert, I can become very knowledgeable about such arid environments. But until I have stepped foot in the wasteland, tasted the pain of parched lips and dry heat, until I have felt the sand abuse my skin, I know less of the desert than the poorest most illiterate Bedouin child.

Halloween with the Rainbow Trout

Halloween 2006 brought a crisp clear morning to the Smoky Mountains . I was at Little River Outfitters, awaiting my guide, Dave Carson. I had hired Dave not so much to guide me to where the fish were on this trip, as to how to fish for them when I found them. I have fly fished for trout in easier waters, and for black bass all over the south. I have taken excursions to the Smokies waters for years on end with not much success. Today I hoped would be a new beginning for me, and a new relationship with the denizens of the cold, almost mirror-like streams and rivers of the Appalachian mountains.

The trout here are always described with terms like “spooky”, “wary” and “clever”. I am more at home with fish that are careless, dumb, and hungry, so I decided I needed a little help. I had met Dave on a couple of occasions, and he seemed a nice enough fellow. He had the required look of a guide. The wrinkled smile, white beard, and physique that is needed to keep all of us rookies from drowning in the somewhat difficult to maneuver boulders and moss covered rocks. What I didn’t expect was cosmic good fortune. I am always on the lookout for luck, as it seems to preclude any success I have happened on in the past. I had just been reminded that David Carson is the name of one of my cousins on my father’s side of the family, so I took that as a good sign. Then I started to ponder my cousin’s side of the family.

David Carson is my Dad’s first cousin, and about the same age. He and I never did “hang out” as such when I was young, but I do remember him, and I especially remember his father, my great uncle Gene. Although I didn’t get to visit Uncle Gene very often, but he was sort of legendary to me. I learned how to fish from my dad, and he pretty much learned from uncle Gene. So the first time I met uncle Gene, all there was to think about, talk about, and do to my way of thinking was FISH. Now of course, family likes to sit and visit, but that can be done just as easily on a boat as it can in a rocking chair right? So after (not too much) whining on my part, uncle Gene took us fishing. We were at beaver lake in Arkansas, and we were bass fishing. Now I don’t exactly remember how many or how big the fish were that we caught but lets just say it was hundreds, and they were all over 10lbs a piece (at least that is what my 12 yr old brain remembers). The legend of Gene Carson was secured, and the fish mounted on his wall didn’t hurt the legend either. The way I saw it, I was part of the bloodline of fishing greatness. Unfortunately, my prowess as an angler has not totally secured my place in the fishing hall of fame. But hope was on the rise, because as I said fishing and mysticism go hand in hand, and I could connect the name of my fishing guide with a relative that was an angling god!