Fishing

Last night, as a community, Mike, Jessica, and I took the time to walk through the last 4 months of our lives.  From Orientation up until this last hectic week before Christmas, we reflected back upon our experiences, the people we have met, the struggles and joys of our work and community life.  We took this time to "paint the picture" - not necessarily to interpret or critique, but simply to be aware of it all, bring it into our consciousness.  At the end of the reflection, we had to pick a word, an experience, an emotion, that seemed to be coming through more so than the others, something that was speaking about our overall experience.

I had an image that kept coming to mind.  Fishing.  I am not a huge fisher (although I would like to learn), but I have been a few times growing up.  One of my best friends as a kid loved fishing, and he introduced me to the joys of crabbing and fishing for snappers in the bays of Long Island. He showed me how to do it right.  We always went early in the morning, with a fully stocked cooler of sandwiches and soda, bags full of snacks, a radio, and some chairs to sit in.  These are some of the best memories of my childhood, whole days spent fishing, shooting the shit, and just enjoying the salt air.

I guess my experience here has something to do with fishing, at least in the way I understand it.  I do as much prep work as I can.  Prepare the bait, make sure the rod and reel are in good working condition, pick a good spot to cast off - all the things to prepare and try and make the trip successful.  But after that bait is in the water, it seems to be out of my hands.  it's up to the fish.  They bite when they bite, will come when they come.  The ocean is a mysterious kind of place, and once in that water, it doesn't much seem able to be controlled. 

Now, I can pace back and forth, asking why nothing is happening.  I can keep reeling in and casting off, re-baiting my hook, adjusting and fidgeting, doing my best to sway the outcome.  I can be impatient, and frustrated.

Or.  I can bring a cooler full of good food and drink.  Bring a friend along, share a beer, good stories, and the simple joy of being present to one another.  I can feel the sea breeze and taste the salt water in the air.  Watch the sunrise and feel it warm up the day.  When the time comes for a bit, pick up that rod and engage, fight, and enjoy that struggle.

I can be focused only on the amount of fish I bring home, or I can be present to the whole experience.  Enjoy each part of it.

Being here in South Dakota, on the Rez, it's kind of like fishing.  I cast out every day.  Do my best to prepare, taking time to be still and reconnect with myself and God, center myself out of the wellspring of love in my soul.  Then I wait.  Patiently and humbly.  It's a mysterious thing to try and meet a community in their place, to encounter a person in the place of sorrow or joy, meet them in their deepest Truth.  It is not something I can control.  I have to wait to be invited.  In the meanwhile, I can be angry or stressed, impatient and frustrated (which at times I certainly am).  Or.  I can bring my friends, family, and community members with me, enjoy their presence and company.  I can enjoy the landscape, listen to good music (and play some), enjoy the whole process.  And when the time comes for a bite, for an invitation or an opening up, I can be ready to wrestle, ready to fully engage.  It isn't only about the catch, although that often makes the whole experience feel worth it, or gives hope for the next cast - but it's the whole experience.