Gone Fishin'

I went fishing many months ago. Zen fishing. Just sat on the grass around a stocked pond in an upscale housing complex and welcomed the fish. There was a peace inside of me and I let it radiate to welcome the fish and enjoy their company. Soon, they gathered. A distance away but there were dozens of them. Lazing. Just being. Yet distanced from me. So I went deeper into the peace and radiated it even more. Inviting them. Inviting them to trust and be welcomed so that we could mutually enjoy each other’s company.

Perhaps the area where I sat was just not a place they frequented. So I moved. Closer to where they were at ease. They scattered when I did but I settled in and waited from them to accept me.

Karma trumped my Zen. The fish remembered. They remembered being caught and released. They remembered the hooks and the hookers. They did not trust me because I was one of them. Those that brought them here to catch them and release them in the ultimate lie of bait and switch. They were captives in a gilded cage. In this case, a beautiful pond where they were enticed with food to bite the hook, be shown as prize in a place close to their death, and then returned to their hell on earth.

I am a vegetarian and do not fish for sport, food, bravado, company, adventure, solace, or tradition. Raised near a bay and less than a dozen miles from the ocean, fishing and what draws some to it eluded me as did hunting. Used to joke that I would only hunt what I would eat with a weapon I can handle and they did not let me hunt chickens and cows in a Buick. Now, even the chickens and cows are safe since my carnivore days in that manner are over by my evolved choices.

Karma trumped my Zen and helped me see we must choose individually while healing collectively. Zen fishing invites. Karma waits to see if we can be trusted. Our dominion over fish stinks and we have to let the wind of change blow the stink off of us. Maybe some other day they will be biting.