It's nearly 1 am Monday morning here as I lay in bed trying with all my might to put myself to sleep so I can be fresh and ready for the ADO exam. But my mind is racing like an ancient Roman chariot race. Is it exam anxiety? Is it my diet? Or could it be the 5 o'clock cup of coffee I had Sunday afternoon? In any case I can't sleep, so I'm now hand-picking one of them racing chariots and disassembling it, hoping it'll bore me to sleep. Here goes nothing....
Fishing is a lot like living. We can sit and wait if we want. We can also stand or walk around while we wait, if we want. We can be restless and try different baits and hooks and different fishing spots to try and maximize our yield. There's traditional fishing with hooks and weights. There's fly-fishing where you swing the fishing line around your head like a cowboy. And of course there's the myriad of lures at your disposal. But it's all fishing.
Now every once in a while, some more often than others, the fisherman will get a nibble on the other end of the line. The whole thing is like a prehistoric dance; an ancient discourse between equals; a never ending ritual between predator and prey. The reflexive reaction to those soft and hard nibbles, the physical struggle that immediately follows the successful yank and pull, the familiar yet never old emotions, the miniscule yet highly addictive adrenaline, and the thousand other biochemical reactions that are fired within the blink of an eye when that instantaneous slice of time of connecting with the unseen from another dimenion in what always seems like the very first time - I think it is one of the greatest feelings of this world.
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