This is me at 10 years old. The bass was caught with a simple hook at the end of a bamboo pole beneath a fallen tree; an oak that found its final resting place across the Little Muddy River in Southern Illinois. The fish didn't get away.
My uncle (shown in picture to my right) and I went fishing under a bridge in Pensacola, Florida later that summer. We waded in knee deep crystal cool waters. I practiced casting the fishing line just right. A sudden weight tugged at the tip of my pole. "Reel it in, slow now..." I saw a dinner plate size flounder getting closer to my feet. Line snapped. The fish settled in the bed of sand. "Reach down and pick it up," were my instructions. I was scared. What would happen? I've never done this before. I didn't know what to expect. I extended my arm...but not soon enough. It's shiny grey, flat back scurried away.
I often pause and reflect how fish are like the variety of opportunities I've had available to me. Some I took and reeled in leading to morsels of insight. Other opportunities stirred fright of the unknown - scared of my own curiosity. They got away - possibilities forever rippling down the current of time.
**New post: 9/12/13
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The above was my first attempt at writing a blog post. I've recently come to a major pause in my life which has brought clarity to a reflection; a reflection that has shown the distinct journey I've taken with this blog.
When I first started this blog, I thought the life of it would be short. I rationalized in my mind that I'd 'give it a try.' It was more of an experiment than anything else. I desired to set up a model of writing for my students to follow and maybe even be inspired by.
Reflecting back and along this path, even now, I'm not sure that this endeavor has ended up benefiting anyone but myself. It has been encouraging to me that I've stuck with it because it has helped prompt my own depth of understanding of self. My adventure moving forward in this life is clearly going to be enhanced. So, over the course of four years, I can say I'm glad I at least started...I appreciate, even more, the beginning...
I have learned. I have been taught by my own willingness to explore and search for answers in the questions that a variety of words has richly given me. Contemplating has been a means by which I've been able to dig the mines of precious insights...the copper of knowledge, the silver of understanding, and a few gold nuggets of wisdom...all because I took a risk, took a chance, to delve into the unknown of seeking truth in the buried essences of words and in the meaning of what is visible and invisible...along the way, the trip has been worth it...
How much longer will I write a blog? In theory, the answer would be, 'until I'm not physically, or mentally capable of it,' because words are inexhaustible, the trails of thought they leave behind still stir the wonders of imagination and the depth of revelations. I am still challenged with the idea proferred by George Orwell: "Let the meaning choose the word, and not the other way around."
I guess the answer now is...I will write as long as I can still see the power of words taking shape in the reflection of a mirror...and when I peer into this pool of the sublime...gratitude will continue for life's opportunities...opportunities which will remain forever true...