Tangles and Knots
Fly fishing invites massive tangles into your life that warp your mind. The worst ones follow the tangle you just went through, on the very next cast. When it happens you have three options; work it out, cut it out and re-rig, or quit fishing. I like all three depending on the situation.
They can happen just because the wind decides to mess up your casting loop. Sometimes, when landing a fish, they flip and flop so much they seem to be intentionally whisking your rig into a frenzy. But, most commonly, tangles happen because of operator error. Maybe there is a metaphor here.
It takes monk-like patience to work them out. When you eventually get that final microscopic twist of invisible thread to relax and unfurl, it is the most satisfying sense of relief. Freedom. Back to the task at hand, and then…you get into another fucking tangle. It's madness.
The other half of your time spent while fly fishing is threading the actual fly onto the leader, or tippet, a.k.a. "fishing line". Also, you have to learn new terms that are just snobby replacements for common words we already know.
Fly fishing, in its widest scope, is just a practice in being human. It can look poetic, or it can look ridiculous, but mostly, it's all in your head. Nobody is really watching, at least for very long, and the critics will always be only that. Hopefully, at least one fish will get in the way of your bug, a.k.a. "bait", during the half-day-long ordeal.
Zen happens when nothing of what I have said matters, and you just catch fish. Om…
There are three categories of knots that come into play. The first is a weak knot. This is a functional knot that fails unintentionally when you hook a fish, branch, or whatever. Next, is a good knot. It holds for several numbers of fish, branches, or what have you, and is often the unsung difference maker for a successful outing. Last, you have the– f’me in the bing-bong—kind of knot. They look like a bird's nest made of glass noodles, and they suck the sanity right out of your brain. These are the ones that cause you to cut above and below the disaster, so that it becomes necessary to re-rig. It's all good…until it's knot.
Jesus told Peter to throw his net on the right side of the boat because he wasn't doing well on the other side. Why the f*** would that make any difference? I guess one would have to have faith, and let go of personal pride. Good story though.
If Peter was a fly-fisher, the story of Jesus stepping to the shore to coach him up would go a little different. "Okay, try a roll cast and land it in the shadow next to that rock…yeah, no…the other one, further, and to your right…yeah, right there, but closer to the seam, and maybe slightly more upstream…yeah, there…close…almost…maybe just a little more left and closer…there you go, right there…nope. Do you mind if I try one? Thanks. Oh look, a fish. There you have it, do you see? Good. Now you try…Okay, that's it…Nope, oh damn, look at the tangle you just made. Good luck with that," said Jesus.
Self discovery helped me slow down and look at the tangle, so I could identify the individual knots. Through daily practice, I started to develop, and trust, my intuition.
I know it's real this time.
There is nothing to explain about it, because I don't understand. I think that is what loving life is beginning to mean to me.
I know that the tangles and knots will never end. I don't want to live to avoid them, but I do want to avoid them, so I can spend more time living.
This is my daily inventory at work. Step #10 in action. It only takes a few moments to see what is in front of me, so that I can take the proper course. I have a life to live, and so does everyone else.
I love fishing, working out the tangles is worth it most of the time. Cutting free, and deciding to start over with a new leader can seem drastic, but it could be the only way forward. If the knot is some lesson that needs to be learned, or taken on, that is a choice too. It can be therapeutic to let the mind focus on an entirely different problem, but if it is drifting away from the advent of joy, then looking at the bigger picture might pay off.
Often enough, you will catch a fish that shows the obvious signs of trauma. A kinked tail end, or scar from a predator. They could be missing an eye, or part of its jaw. They have their tangles too, but if they can swim on to fight another day, they do. I say this only to remind myself that we heal, so that we can encourage each other, and it doesn't really go much further beyond that. Of course, it's not really that simple. The magic that is available takes practice to make.
At some point, during the early stages of this process, I realized that I would be able to develop an intimate relationship with the core of my being, communicate with my muscles and joints, and unlock the limitations I falsely, and unknowingly, believed in my mind. This felt just like one long tangle after another that will never be undone. But when I look back, and reread some of the stories that happened in between the nasty tangles and knots, I see that the pictures are pretty, and there are plenty of them. The inspiration from this insight has become my purpose to fulfill, and I fully accept the responsibility to keep on fishing.
