Momentum
When you are extremely rushed for time, it is easier to say, "I can spend time with the kids next week," rather than, "Actually, the kids really need me. When exactly will I really have time next?" Things outside the tunnel are harder to see clearly, easier to undervalue, and more likely to get left out." -- Scarcity: Why Having Too Little Means So Much
Sometimes it's hard to find the momentum to do things we want to do. It may be spending time with the kids. Or, if the kids are grown, it may be going fishing.
My wife and I were about to leave for a mountain retreat with our church. We've done this for several years now, and every year I'd think, "I bet there is a trout stream nearby. If we leave a little early, I could fish it." But then there was always a hundred things to do, and I'd think, "Next year." Of course the years only somehow got busier, and "next year" never came.
With the clarity that comes with age, I have lately been realizing this is how whole lives go by, and so much of them unlived. And then I also realized this is one of the prettiest falls I've ever seen.
It was a call, of sorts...
We took to the road, stopping for donuts along the way. The french toast donuts hit the spot. Come to think of it, so did the pumpkin donuts. And the apple cider donuts too.
Then it was time to hit the water. That's a funny phrase, isn't it? I didn't so much "hit the water" as sought to be in harmony with it.
There is a joy that comes in putting together a fly rod, seating the reel, and stringing the line.
And, of course, there is joy in catching a fish, beholding its transcendent beauty, and then letting it go.
It was a good day.