I hope everyone had a nice holiday weekend. Not too much going on here other than a collective reacclimation to the office. I was up in Hopewell Junction, NY for one last barbeque at my sister's current home. My allergies were bad, but reacquainting myself with the pace of not-NYC was worth it. Figuring that I don't want to force what's not coming, here's a link that speaks to my present mood: "Powerful Lines: the poetry of fishing:"
The reality, however, is that fishing is about the closest you can get to physically experiencing poetry. It is a pursuit based on contemplation and solitude that involves an appreciation of the elements; it is a game of chance, hope, escapism; a step into the murky waters of the unknown. It is the perfect symbiosis of man and nature and there is little difference between the angler setting forth on a misty dawn and the poet staring at the blank page. Both are hoping for greatness, but will settle for a brief silvery flash of the transcendental brilliance that lies beneath the surface.
via Silliman
I love the poetry/fishing idea. Both are such peaceful past times. This is my first visit to your blog. Keep up the good work!
Posted by: joemmama | May 30, 2007 at 12:02 AM
Thanks, I'm trying. I really wish I was able to fish more often. From age 11-21 I had a one track mind (maybe two tracks), but one of them was set on fishing.
Posted by: Mike | June 01, 2007 at 10:17 AM