The first time I cast a line into a blue ribbon trout stream, the prospect of catching a fish excited my entire being. I stood in the small river absorbing deeply the smells and sounds surrouning me. The breeze mixed the sweet scents of the trees with a near-by lilac. Water rushed through and around my exposed legs sweeping away my cares and worries as I stood upon a bed of rounded stones smooth beneath my feet. Sunlight caressed my skin, making the cold stream tolerable. The bamboo rod balanced against the weight of the reel perfectly before I tied on a fly. My fingers rubbed gently over the smooth cork that fit naturally in my hand. Each cast was like the stroke of an artist's brush moving across the sky, angling for the perfect moment to present a trout's next meal. Passes were effortless yet strategic, intended to make the presentation irresistible to a fish that could outsmart me with one lousy toss. Once that rainbow jumped and took my fly I was hooked forever. The trout fought vigorously as I reeled it in slowly, patiently carefully, respectfully. I took the trout in my hand, pulled it out of the stream, and removed the barbless hook from its lips. I honored the powerful creature that glowed with colors that I had never seen before. I thanked it for the challenge then released it back into the wild to fight another day.
I have fished many rivers since then. Most of the time I outsmart a fish or two, but occasionally I am the one who is outsmarted. It's not a disappointment when that happens though because it's true what "they" say: A bad day fishing is better than the best day at work!
Catching a rainbow that first time with a fly rod catapulted me into exaltation. It taught me that I was capable. I could cast properly and present a fly so that I could catch a trout. I knew that if I kept at it, I would catch more fish.
But I have often wondered, What if I hadn't caught anything that first time? Would my experience have been completely different? Would I have given up and never picked up another fly rod?
Our first-time experiences often determine how we feel about something. It takes courage to try new things. It takes even more courage to persevere when things don't work out the way we had envisioned. At least, that has been my experience.
I am a person who meets new adventures with excitement, optimism, and hope. I dream of possibilities and the things that I can achieve when things go right. Positive energy is addictive and attractive.
At the same, I can become discouraged when things don't go as I had hoped. I can give up, listen to self-doubt. I can be paralyzed by fear.
Lately, I have been humbled by the amount of employment rejection letters that I have been racking up from the State of Oregon. One cast after another has yielded zero fish. I get a few looks, but no bites. I can see those damn fish swimming beneath my fly, but they swim away, disinterested. It's evidently time to cast my line in different waters.
Today, I'm fishing in the river of self-employment. I have never fished here before––these waters are uncharted. It's a bit scary and somewhat overwhelming, but the only way I'm going to catch fish is by casting my line in the river over and over again until I present my fly just right and a fish grabs on and doesn't let go. Then, I'll be hooked. Until then, I will persevere.
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