I’m not good at balance.
Not good at all.
I’m known as a “closer,” a person who completes projects, creates product, delivers on time, as promised, or better.
That’s all fine and good. But this all comes at a cost.
My focus on accomplishing something, whatever it might be, is at once a blessing and a curse. Focus is necessary to do anything these days. Accomplishing a lot of things, many separate things, requires much distinct focus on each and every thing.
This ability to focus and deliver has allowed me to be “successful” in my professional life. The ability to focus has allowed me to achieve a high level of performance tying flies, fishing, writing, creating salmon art, and sometimes, mowing the lawn or tidying-up the garage.
People who barely know me admire my ability to accomplish as much as I do, never recognizing that I, too, have only so many hours in each day.
I don’t know if they wonder how I manage to balance work, writing, fishing, friends, and family.
Do they know that there simply are not enough hours in a day to get it all done?
Do they know that I never achieve the balance that I should?
I’ve neglected my family, much of the time.
I love Lisa and Jackson dearly. My first-born son, David, and his wife too.
I’m not really sure they know how much I love them.
They know I love to fish; fly tying; writing; salmon art; photography.
They have plenty of evidence that I love my work and all things salmon.
The other night I said to Lisa, you know adore you.
Not good, I thought.
Lisa knows I love and adore her. But it would be nice, she was probably thinking, if I remembered her birthday, and Mother’s day, and didn’t announce to the world that Thanksgiving interferes with the best part of the fall Chinook season.
I take my family for granted.
I know they will be here for me, no matter what.
Did I mention neglecting my few dear friends? They know how I take them for granted. They forgive me. They know it’s just the way I get stuff done.
The salmon, now, that’s a different story.
The salmon may be here today, and have moved on tomorrow. A hot bite missed is gone forever. Like the three days last fall when the kings were taking Clousers in the surf at the mouth of Elk River. I got there two days late. Two days late is like being in a different galaxy than the salmon.
My family forgave my foray chasing should-a-been-here-two-days-ago salmon.
My family continues to tolerate the intensity of my working-salmon chasing-writing-creating art-tying flies-go fishing cyclic obsessions.
It is who I am.
If they medicated me any more, I’d probably achieve balance, but I might just sit and drool on myself, unable to remember what it was that I was supposed to be doing.