A Lesson in Patience

Despite deeply rooted cultural and family traditions, I never developed the Zen-like patience required for hunting and fishing. I just got bored. It's a shame really, that mind-spinning restlessness I felt after less than an hour waiting for a deer to present itself for slaughter or a fish to notice my shinny, yellow Shasta lure as it spun and jerked its way through the murky, cool lake water of Lake Greenwood.

Uncle Bill had no such restlessness perched on a deer stand 20 feet up a pine tree, silently surveying the familiar landscape, thinking only of the deer that might or might not show up. "It's not just about getting a deer," Uncle Bill often said about his love of the sport, "I just like being in the woods. It gives me time to think about things."

Uncle Bill's wisdom is undeniable without the obfuscation brought on by adolescent arrogance, resentment, and fear. Hunting and fishing (which requires essentially the same single-minded temperament and willingness to "be") are legitimate portals to finding contentment and purpose in life. Uncle Bill's ability to access his own peaceful realm through such simple activity is certainly worthy of envy.

Writing does bring focus, clarity, purpose, meaning, and occasionally contentment, but I suspect that a direct comparison between the psychic benefits of hunting (or fishing) and the difficult task of writing would reveal writing as the hands down loser. Want to be happy? Go hunting or fishing.