The Underlying Key


Sitting on the riverbank, casting into open water, letting the lure drift as you reel—maybe pausing a moment if you’re working a minnow plug—there’s time. Time for the rod tip to twitch. Time for the current to pull. Time for the mind to go where it usually isn’t allowed.

You think. About what has happened. About what will happen. About people, places, and things…which covers nearly everything a person can think about. Everything except action. Except movement. In my case, sometimes the only proof I’m still here is whistling.

Fishing alone does that. Your hands stay busy while your mind is left unguarded. No screens. No noise. No one asking anything of you. Just water, repetition, and whatever you’ve been avoiding.

I don’t think a lot of people are afraid of being alone.

They’re afraid of what shows up when there’s nowhere left to hide.

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