Category: Eco-Spirituality
Stink Bugs for Breakfast

Stink Bugs for Breakfast

By |
Dreaming of wading…and casting….I couldn’t wait to do a late
afternoon/early evening visit to the creek.

There’s something about the warm, espresso-flavored froth as it is slurped…the first taste of the morning. But this morning, as I poured the froth over the espresso, I thought I saw something floating. I ignored it but just as I was about to experience that first frothy goodness, I saw it again. 

I got a spoon and stirred and not one, but two, stink bugs swirled in my over-sized mug. 

The night before, I always prepare the cup under the spout and make sure water is in the tank. Evidently, two stink bugs overnighted in the cup and nearly created a cappuccino catastrophe. It wasn’t the best start to the day. And it mirrored my week.

Determined to turn it around, I headed up to the loft for yoga practice before I began work…work I do for money, not something I’m especially connected to at the moment. Yoga helps.

After attending to work, I took my dog Buddy for his annual exam and was excited to have a beautiful late afternoon to fly fish after I dropped him off at home. But there was an emergency at the vet clinic and we had to wait to check out. And wait. And wait. 

Almost an hour later than I planned, I settled Buddy in with Vern and grabbed my fly fishing gear. I drove to one of my favorite places to wade. After parking, the first thing I always do is pull out my boots, socks, and waders. But today, there were no waders. I left them hanging on my bathroom door from yesterday’s early evening fishing. In my hurry to have fun, I left an important piece of gear.

Bummer.

I was wearing capri tights and a short sleeve shirt because it was so warm. I guessed the water was warmer than the 55 of yesterday. The boots would be rather big without the neoprene feet of my wading pants. But what the heck? I could handle a little cold water…I’ve been excited that wet wading season is coming soon. But usually, I wear neoprene socks with my boots when not wearing waders. It was either forget it and go home, or deal with a little discomfort.

I stared at my rod tube, the waist pack full of yummy flies, the wading staff. I couldn’t leave. Not with clear skies, warm air, and water levels that were back to my comfort level. It wasn’t even a choice…I had to do it.

The boots were a little too big, even with the BOA cinched down as tight as I could screw it. And that first step into 60 degree water was a bit teeth clenching, but what an amazing two hours. 

The fish were moody and teased me, but never committed. The wind was gusty and slightly annoying. But I made a decision to have fun and I did. Actually, I made that decision when I pulled on my thick, wool socks and boots. And when I dumped the cappuccino and started over. And when I practiced yoga before work.

I got some awesome casting practice in the wind and visited places that aren’t that fishy but have large, open casting spaces free from tree limbs…not easy to find on the streams where I fish. 

As fun as it was, my feet needed to get warm. After nearly two hours, I headed for the car. When I pulled off the boots and soggy socks, I noticed my feet were, in fact, quite numb. Good call to head to the house. But good call to fish, too.

Hours later I noticed how amazing I felt. The stinky attitude I’d had lately had been washed away with the cold water. I think the stink bugs in my cup were a reflection of my funk this week. I could have remained in that grumpy place when I realized my waders were at home; but, I decided to just give it a try. And that decision shifted everything.

We have choice….every moment. What will you choose?

Today was a huge reminder of how fly fishing has changed my life for the better and why I’m working and playing hard to be a guide for women that want to Explore….and Emerge. My next step? A day with my mentor on the water…and then a weekend of Wilderness First Aid with NOLS.
Flowers & Ice

Flowers & Ice

By |

After a very warm, ‘early Spring’, we slid back into Winter. But somebody forgot to tell the trilliums and violets and other tender flowers that continue to unfold their magic in the mountains. 

It warmed up to the low 50’s, after several 20 degree nights. Sunny skies, on the first day of Spring, lured me out with my Nikon and macro lens. How could I not?

The trail gained elevation along the creek and as I walked, I breathed in cool air and listened to the water in which I’m usually wading. Sunlight dappled the ground and melted icy places left after the cold night.

I thought it was rather optimistic to haul the heavy camera and lens in a quest for wildflowers; but, their tender petals were fresh and vibrant. What resilience. What a surprise to find them peeking out, unfurling their wild beauty.

Warm days in late winter always bring anxiety to me for the blueberries, trilliums, and so many tender flowers because cold always returns, and sometimes with fierceness. Last year my blueberry bushes were in full bloom and we had a low of 9 degrees in late March. I grieved for the berries I wouldn’t get to graze on during warm mornings in the garden. But many berries emerged out of that freeze and they were sweet and juicy, made more so by the miracle of their survival.

It was with a joyful heart that I walked along the trail finding flowers braving the cold to blossom and thrive. They made me ponder: Perhaps things happening in our lives have little to do with what we plan and more to do with surrendering to the flow and unfurling our wild beauty when it feels right, not when conditions are perfect (whatever perfect is).
The Big Picture & The Details

The Big Picture & The Details

By |

With all the rain yesterday and the rivers acting a bit wild, I grabbed my gear and headed for the water. But this time, it was my Nikon and tripod and a few lenses. The fly fishing gear stayed home.  Before I pulled out of the driveway, I put the 70-200mm lens on the D800 and prepared to be amazed.

I wasn’t quite prepared to be as amazed as I was. Elk walked up to my car as it sat parked on the side of the road with me safely inside. They were too close to even use the big lens at some points, but I still got some nice shots without getting out of the car.

On to the water I drove and found some beautiful waterfalls and rapids and rocks that were shining with Smoky Mountain moisture. It was good to visit the water, that I love wading in, with my big camera, so I could attempt to capture it a little better. I used a wide angle zoom lens to capture flowing water. iPhones are great, but there’s still nothing like a full frame camera to give such amazing depth and color…like the place comes alive through images I shoot with it. It’s just too heavy to carry while fishing.

The light got a little too bright, even with clouds, so I put the wide-angle lens and tripod away and attached the macro lens. It was fun to shift my attention from big water and rocks to tiny mosses and insects. What a fun exercise in awareness.

It’s a good reminder to look at the macrocosm of life–the big picture–but also to notice the details–the microcosm. There is beauty and power in both and we have to navigate both in life.

My macrocosm includes the overall life journey, fulfilling my purpose, connecting with others along the path. The microcosm in my life includes details like the work I do on a daily basis, taking care of my dog and cat kids, eating, staying active. Sometimes we can get stuck in one or the other of these realms…and that can lead to angst. If we keep both the big picture and the details in balance, we stay in balance and suffer less. Or at least that’s my experience.

Today I was reminded to look for beauty in the big picture of my life…the elk, river, rocks, mountains showed me that view. And those delicate moss blooms, tiny lichens and insects reminded me to pay attention to the small stuff, too. If I work on the small stuff, it helps the big picture develop into something quite amazing.
Returning

Returning

By |

It became more just wading up the small creek rather than constantly seeking another small pool to cast into. Occasionally, I’d unhook the nymph and let it and the dry fly move through the air, but really I was just enjoying the profound beauty of the mist, the light rain, rushing water, and moss-covered rocks. 

The air was 57 degrees and the water was 50 degrees. As I waded up the creek, the typical fog–that so often thrills me in the Smokies–started to form over the water. The softness of air enveloped me with light moisture as it kissed my face and hands. Everything else was under waterproof cover. 

I saw only one trout and it was a brookie that danced with me until I freed it to carry on in the watery realms. But today, it was simply a bonus to connect with a fish for a few moments. Otherwise I was absorbing the beauty into my cells, feeling the peace of mind that comes from being in the present moment. 

It always amazes me what two hours wading a mountain stream does for me, to me. Hours later, I’m still feeling the creek water move through my body, the mist caress and envelope me as it did the rocks and trees. And I’m already excited about returning, to the creek…to myself.
My Bones Remember

My Bones Remember

By |

My bones remember Oneness as they move over ancient moss-covered rocks, through clear, rushing water.

Space within me becomes everything reflected in the quiet, still pool or the bright eye of the swimming trout.

Each cell mirrors the gnarled roots reaching, drinking deeply and branches soaring, dancing into blue sky.

If I looked for a lifetime, I couldn’t find anything within me that isn’t singing harmoniously with this place.