It has apparently been five months since I posted anything here. Not because there’s nothing going on. Not because there is too much going on to write. Not that I haven’t wanted to. Not because I really really really wanted to. But of course there are plenty of excuses or reasons or explanations and such forth that don’t merit mentioning because after all I simply didn’t sit down and log in and type.
But tonight I had to. Couldn’t put it off another minute.
What caused me to post this now? Well here it is.
I have received kind notes from friends in recent weeks, days, and hours. Words that touched my heart with such a feeling of gratitude that I frankly don’t think that I can find proper words to express how I felt.
I thank you.
I thank each of you who reached out to me.
And I have something to say to anyone who reads this.
As each of us blunders into the future, moment by moment, we may experience every emotion from pure joy to pure despair.Whether you do or not, I can tell you that I deal with both ends of the spectrum most days.
I will pause now to let you know that I just devoted some ten or fifteen minutes writing about the dark end of the spectrum and how I can’t predict when I’ll go there and so on and so forth but eventually decided that I’d better delete the entire passage because the process is so tangled that I think it best to leave it now.
Here we are.
Nestucca River salmon are beginning their final run of the river, leaving the ocean home they have known most of their life, setting in motion a cycle of life and death that persists today in spite of the assaults of “civilization” that has no understanding or respect for natural things. Summer steelhead are feeling the relief of waters cooled by rains falling as I write, moving restlessly about their pools, knowing, perhaps, that their time to spawn is growing shorter as the nights grow longer. The sea run cutthroat are moving about the coastal rivers now, some staying in tidewater, some moving high into the headwaters to lay behind the first spring chinook that will begin digging redds in a week or so.
I tied flies today for my friend who will fish in the Amazon Rain Forest next month. I tied a few albacore flies too, hoping that I’ll get out to chase tuna a time or two before the ocean shifts and the tuna move offshore. I’m looking at the river forecast and trying to imagine where I’ll fish this week, anticipating that rain will send fish upriver.
My family is well.
My cats are well.
I hope that everyone who reads this is well, or well enough, or can be comforted knowing that someone, somewhere, has felt what you are feeling this moment.
If everything in your life is perfect, I am happy for you.
If some things in your life are not so good, in fact if some things are really crappy, please hang the heck in there until something good happens, no matter how small that good thing might be. That’s what we all need to do, because we need each other and none of us is very well equipped to go it alone.
And if this is all too cryptic and doesn’t fit with whatever is going on in your life please excuse me. This is the best I can do to say what I want to say without saying the words exactly because sometimes I’m afraid of the words that might come spilling out.