Today the weather forecast was for sunny skies and 71 degrees, mind you it is February 2. Choices had to be made today…was I gonna go to my group meeting at the VA, a fine bunch of men, but not a requirement for me to attend. Two Harley Davidson motorcycles are parked in my carport, I could ride one of them. Riding a Harley in February without having to be all bundle up, that would be cool. My third choice was to go fishing. Yeah I know, why would I want to go fishing, my luck has been nonexistent of late. Could it be that my love of fishing is stronger than my love of riding motorcycles or the need to be around friends? Maybe so. (Doubt my psychologist will ever understand my choice.Whoa, what am I saying? Of course she understands. She is the one that told me I would rather do things alone than with others due to my PTSD. I know better than to doubt Doc.)
When the fish get finicky and refuse to bite the fisherman’s concentration level must go up. Day dreaming about tomorrow or mired in the past ain’t gonna get it. I would think that all fisherman’s senses need to be attuned to what he was doing. I know that on occasion I have been in such a state of zen in my fishing that every cast went where it was directed. I could almost see the bottom of the lake or pond by the feel being transmitted to my hands by line and rod. Days like that don’t come very often for me anymore and I kinda dislike that, but it isn’t the end of the world. My happiness doesn’t rest on whether I catch fish or not, no not really. Don’t get me wrong, I wanna catch fish and a lot of them, but I am most grateful for the opportunity to fish. To be in God’s living room, admiring its beauty, while doing something I enjoy so much is what living is all about to me. So no matter if I catch a big ole bucket mouth or just a guppie. I am having fun. A guppie, maybe? But the dry spell has been broken.
Reblogged this on Living with PTSD and commented:
I posted this last year on mudscamera.com