Sometimes for the non anglers, we are like aliens from another planet, we seem to be dummies who find in contemplation an absolut passive happyness. If they only new how wrong they are!
If you are awaken from this illusion, and you understand that black implies white, self implies other, life implies death or shall I say death implies life, you can feel yourself. Not as a stranger in the world, not as something here on probation, not as something that has arrived here by fluke but you can begin to feel your own existence as absolutely fundamental.
I fly fish as if my life depended on it, as a painter has to paint or a writer has to write. I fish because it’s part of me, and it makes me feel part of everything else.