Zen and the Art of Fly Fishing We believe we live in a three-dimensional world, but fish really do. Imbedded in their environment, they are upheld, surrounded, by the element that nurtures them; Effortlessly, weightlessly, floating like spacewalkers. In such intimate contact with their surroundings it's hard to say where the fish ends and the water begins.What is it like to be a fish? We can't even imagine. Think of the most joyous dream of flying, the delightfully free feeling of floating, and the Oneness of the purest meditative state. It's a wonder fish can survive the ecstasy. You never know what kind of person you are, until you've caught a very good fish and lost a very good fish. Fly-fishing is an act of great intimacy. Unlike other types of fishing, one handles the line by hand, and manipulates the fly by hand. The sense of touch is used in casting, retrieving, feeling the fish hit, fighting, landing and releasing the fish. At every step one is literally in touch with the process, with the kind of control and involvement that only such close contact can bring. The equipment is of the simplest type; There is little to interfere between the angler and the fish. Through this simplicity and intimacy, the angler can approach Oneness with the fish and the process of catching them. Simplicity is the gateway to understanding the complexity of the ecosystem, the Self, and the relationships between these things. And one can go even farther, to the meaning behind this lovely intricacy. It leads right back to simplicity. It amazes me how that vague grey shadow in the water, once hooked and played and brought to hand, is suddenly a work of art. Colors and subtle highlights never suspected until that moment glisten in the sunlight. Sparkling and lovely as a handful of jewels, yet with the vibrancy of a living being, strength and life and wildness pulsing in the hand. It meets your eye with a sudden intimacy, you touch it gently, like a lover, then set it free. With a final flash, it's gone. There is so much to learn from such a brief encounter: That beauty is fleeting, and to be found in unexpected places. That all life is connected, communicates on some ethereal level, and each life has its value. That the old poem is true as far as it goes: If you love something, you should set it free; But the poem doesn't tell you that doing so also sets you free. It is said that fly-fishing is done only in beautiful places. I find that the places may not start out as beautiful, but the act of fly-fishing in them makes them that way. If you want to eat fish, buy one at the store. If you want to harvest fish, the three most efficient methods are nets, electrofishing, and dynamite. The reasons for fly-fishing are not so simple. Practical reasons, such as causing minimal harm to fish intended for release, are mere excuses. Fly-fishing is emotional. To a fly-fisher, the journey is more important than the destination; The means more important than the end; Esthetics more important than functionality; Simplicity and nature more important than complex technology. It's about Life; It satisfies our primitive predatory instincts, yet at the end of the day, all the participants are free to celebrate their life and their triumph. Even the rods and reels and other gear are looked upon and loved as instruments, like a musician would do, rather than as mere tools. If you are a complex person with the soul of an artist, learn to fly-fish. Anybody who sees a salmon swimming upstream marvels, for Instinct is a wondrous thing. But if you cast to that salmon, hook and land it, you will know that Reason is higher than Instinct. The best anglers I know talk to the fish. Some even sing to the fish. This is nothing to be embarrassed about. It's a way of establishing a connection, expressing that, for a fleeting moment, two very different lives have intersected, and there is joy in the meeting. Perhaps the fish talk back, and we are just not able to hear them. I like to think they do. I don't know any spin-fishermen who make their own lures, but almost all the fly anglers I know tie at least some of their own flies. This gives fly-fishing an incomparable element of creativity and self-expression. It's satisfying to catch a fish, an incredible high to catch one on a fly you tied, and almost orgasmic to catch one on a fly you designed and tied. This adds one more layer of deeply personal meaning to an activity that is already a reflection of one's most profound emotions. Give a man a fish, you feed him for a day; teach a man to fish, you feed him for a lifetime; teach a man to fly-fish, and you nurture his very soul. A fish's environment is constantly changing. Currents rush along, with their varying feels and smells and temperatures. Suspended in them is a tumbling comglomerate of silt, plant debris, microscopic life, and other life not so tiny: The fish's prey. These varieties change with the seasons, the weather, even the time of day. The fish must be constantly aware of change, constantly adapting, for its very survival. To understand this is to understand that Life itself is about change. We're all surrounded by its currents, and must adapt just as the fish do. To protest, to refuse, is to be swept away. But to achieve a fish's level of awareness to change, to meet it point by point and succeed, is to know the joy of true freedom. Before you consider marriage, take your lover fishing. It won't tell you much about his earning power or social status, but will show you if he is patient, kind, humble and willing to learn; Passionate about life and love; Growing, evolving, embracing each new experience. It will show you if he faces his own mistakes with gentle humor, and others' with sympathetic support; Makes little of his own success and much of another's; And faces the windknots and biting insects of Life with courage and calm. Fly-fishing places a person in tune with his most basic self, revealing the truth of who he really is. A man who passes the 'fishing test' might make a superior husband; At least he is certain to make a great fishing buddy. The technique called "blind fishing" is a perfect example of the Uncertainty Principle. In any given piece of water, the fish exists only as a sheaf of possibilities, until the fly is cast upon that water. The probabilities shift and change, until the neccessities of mathematical law ordain the strike; At that point, the fish becomes reality. Reality persists until the fish is released, then the water returns to its natural unordered state. Chaos Theory insists that the fly pattern is irrelevant: Only the equations determine the probability of a strike, and the species, not to mention existence, of the fish. This is somehow comforting, and makes fly choice a lot easier: The most effective fly will be one chosen at random. One of the most important lessons we learn from fly-fishing is that there is a food chain, and what our place is in it. Another is that a fly-fisherman is the only predator who chooses to preserve life, releasing its prey unharmed, again and again. Anglers argue what is the epitome of the fly-fishing experience: The rise, hooking the fish, the fight, or landing the fish? I suggest that it's the entire cycle, that no one part can be separated from the whole without losing the gestalt of the process. From choosing a fly to releasing the fish, fly-fishing is a symphony, each part equally important. To the truly advanced, even the variations on the theme... Snags, snarls, and missed hits...are a harmonious part of the complete work. The fly angler distances herself from the distracting discords of everyday life, relaxes into the tempo of Nature, until she is completely enrapt in this symphony. She is conducting, her fly rod her baton, a part of the music along with the stream and the sunshine, the birds and insects, the trees and wildflowers... and the fish. This is the epitome of the fly-fishing experience. We step into the stream --Rabbit Jensen-- |