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The Three L’s

 

While I was driving home recently, somehow the expression “live and learn” sneaked into my thoughts (yes, if I had been totally present, I would have been thinking solely about driving). The term usually refers to the fact that life is an ongoing educational process – 0n the job training, as it were. For reasons unbeknownst to me, however, the message was more of an encouragement to think of “live and learn” in a different way:

 

Live every moment of every day. In other words, practice mindfulness. Easily said but done with great difficulty.

Learn something new every day. The law of entropy suggests that, if you are not growing, you are deteriorating. 

At first blush this seems like a formula for a fulfilling life. It is, however, just a tad ascetic. Something is missing. That “something” came to me immediately, another “L” word.

Love, as in love life. Loving life means loving yourself, being compassionate and accepting things as they are. The latter doesn’t mean that you can’t effect change in your life. It means that at the present moment everything is as it should be…and the next moment it will change.

Good, Better, Best

What are the characteristics of a good photograph?

A good photograph will have appealing subject matter and display good technique in terms of proper exposure, effective focus, and strong composition. The viewer’s response: “Very nice!”

In addition to the elements of a good photograph, a very good photograph will have a pleasing combination of light, line, form and texture. The viewer’s response: “Wow!”

A great photograph will combine all of the elements of the good and the very good photographs with an emotional impact – the image will resonate with something deep within the viewer’s core. The viewer’s response: Silence.

Enjoy!

Not long ago I tore a page from my 365-day calendar and noticed a quote by Samuel Butler that struck a resonant chord. “All animals, except man, know that the principal business of life is to enjoy it.”

Wow! What a concept: Enjoy your life. The heritage of Western civilization is the Protestant work ethic: One must work hard to “make something” of oneself (whatever that means). While it may be true that many of us enjoy working, it is equally true that few people on their death beds wish that they had spent more time at the office.

Please do not misunderstand me. I am not making a case for indolence. One’s life work should be satisfying and rewarding. I am suggesting, however, that we have a tendency to get lost in the “busy” part of business. In our haste to move on to the next project, appointment or what have you, we neglect to pay proper attention to what is really going on in our lives.

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Cades Cove

Cades Cove

Cades Cove is the most popular spot in the Great Smoky Mountains National Park, the most visited of our national parks. There are many reasons for this but two come most readily to mind. The first is that it is accessible by an eleven-mile loop road. Most visitors to the Smokies rarely get out of, or at least very far from, their vehicles. This is a great boon to those of us who like to hike, photograph, fish and explore.

The second reason is that the cove (mountainese for “valley”) is serenely beautiful. That is opposed to, say, Yosemite Valley, which is spectacularly beautiful (and very often spectacularly snarled with traffic). Unfortunately, Cades Cove has its share of traffic issues as well. Despite numerous turnouts intended for the use of those who wish to stop and look at the wildlife and pastoral scenery, the sighting of a herd of deer will cause traffic to slow to a snail’s pace. A bear sighting (a.k.a. “bear jam”) will stop traffic completely until a park ranger can get to the scene.

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“Totality”

“Rage, rage against the dying of the light.”

Dylan Thomas

High on the wall of our screened porch is a mounted dorado, a game fish captured from the Gulf of California. We call him Pedro. Along his flank and on his tail blazes a yellow stripe as bright as the Baja sun. His dorsal fin is the aquamarine of his native waters. His belly is as white as the playas of California Sud. And his eye is as black as the orb of the new moon that blotted out the sun for almost seven minutes over La Paz, Mexico on July 11, 1991.

Fishing and eclipse chasing share elements of serendipity. Both require being in the right place at the right time. The difference is that with eclipses the place and the time can be predicted with precision. Fishing, thankfully, is more resistant to accuracy.

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“Beginnings”

“Fly-fishing has many attributes, but none more pleasing than its ability to find and liberate the young boy that still hides within me and to let that boy live again without embarrassment or regret, sorrow or anguish.”

Harry Middleton

My first fishing experience occurred during a family vacation in Florida. My sister, who was eleven, and I, age five, were contestants in a small-fry fishing contest held at a lagoon on the grounds of the resort where we were staying. Our older brothers were playing golf with our father, and our mother was doing whatever it is that mothers do when they are temporarily relieved of their maternal duties.

Most of my memories are olfactory – the pungent odor of the wood and pitch on the dock from which we fished, the yeasty aroma of the dough balls that served as bait, and the musty smell of the dark water wherein dwelt our prey. I recollect that my sister won a prize that day, but, from a distance of forty-four years, I can’t recall whether it was for catching the most fish or the largest one. I also remember being instructed to pay careful attention to the bobber affixed to my line and to look for the presence of bubbles, which, I was told, were signs of aquatic life.

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