I came to realize while contemplating this mornings sunrise that writing serves me much the way fly fishing does. They are both exercises in inefficiency and without purpose and perhaps that is why I do them. The purpose of most of human endeavors are to prolong existence; to provide air, water, fuel and shelter to our mortal bodies. Fly fishing and writing these words provide none of these. The fish I do not eat and the words are never read. Well, sometimes I do "eat my words" but they never provide sustenance.
Sometimes I an asked, "why don't you become a fishing guide or a commercial fisherman?" and sometimes I think I should or should have. Sometimes it is suggested that I should strive to be a published author and sometimes I think that would be a worthwhile pursuit. Both of these ideas would ultimately destroy the pleasure I derive from these activities. They would be degraded to the level of all the other things that require efficiently and purpose. Ultimately no mortal endeavor has any purpose but recognizing these activities as such keeps them holy.
3 comments:
I read your writings and find them amusing and entertaining so they serve a purpose. I bet you could write about your fishing excursions and then you would find that fishing also has a purpose.
I read your writings and find them amusing and entertaining so they serve a purpose. I bet you could write about your fishing excursions and then you would find that fishing also has a purpose.
Interesting thoughts. I find joy watching you fish and I love your eloquent story telling ( quite jealous of it actually). I think bringing joy to others is a tremendous reason to complete tasks.
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