500 words about... week five

My goal is to write at least 100 words a day for at least five days each week. Here's this week's collection.

Anxiety

David Venus, writing on Substack, quoted his wife “You can’t outrun anxiety.” I thought it was an interesting take on things that make me anxious. I recall hearing about an interview with an accomplish athlete. When asked if they were nervous, they replied they weren’t, they were excited. That’s a terrific mindset. I get anxious when I fly-fish for a lot of reasons. If I get upset about being nervous, I’m self-inflicting a wound. I try to channel that into excitement. Not think about if it goes wrong, but be excited if it goes right. I can’t outrun my nerves, but I can put them to go use.

The hobgoblin of little minds

“A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds, adored by little statesmen and philosophers and divines," wrote Ralph Waldo Emerson. What does that have to do with fly-fishing you might wonder. Leaving aside the fact that as a fly-fishing guide, I see myself as some combination of statesman, philosopher and divine, I do battle with the hobgoblin of foolish consistency more often than I care to admit. If I stick with one fly, one technique, or one place, then I better start looking around for that hobgoblin. The temptation to not rethink what I’m doing, to stick with the routine and not try something different, can be strong. I know I’ve gotten better at what I do by keeping that foolish consistency hobgoblin at bay.

Perspective

It was a good fish, good meaning big, big enough to want to get it in the net and admire and get a picture. Now it was important. Now I started to care. Now I started to think about it. And, yes, I broke it off. My fault. The fish was doing his job. I messed up mine. As I type this, I laugh. There have been other fish that I messed up, both my own and clients. At the time it hurts, then it’s a memory and all the beating up myself over it won’t put the fish in the net. Lesson learned and filed away. Days, weeks, years; the lesson remains. It’s a matter of perspective.

Loyalty or commitment?

My friend Brian Vincent, the Mayor of Farmville, Virginia, shared a story about his daughter asking his advice on asking for votes. Vincent told her he didn‘t ask for votes when he campaigned. He told her: “I’m not the kind of person who demands loyalty. I’m the kind of person who seeks to inspire commitment. Don’t tell folks what you are going to do. Tell them what you’ll do together.” Vincent’s approach is what leadership looks like. Most notably, it’s what political leadership looks like. His actions speak for him, and if that is enough, he gets elected. Guiding is not so different from campaigning. I’ve found the best trips come when there is a partnership with the client. I’m not telling them what I’m going to do for them, I’m telling them what we will do together. Also, if we campaign well, we will get the vote of the fish.

Reporting

When I first moved to the Valley, I did a brief stint as a sports reporter for a local paper. I learned a lot about being a reporter and newsrooms. Later, as the executive director of the Outdoor Writers Association of America, I learned more, especially about canons and ethics of journalism. There was an oft quoted example of responsible reporting attributed to an unnamed journalism professor that goes like this. "If someone says it's raining, and another person says it's dry, it's not your job to quote them both. Your job is to look out the fucking damned window and find out which is true." The journalism trade means as much to me as being a guide or lobbyist does. There is a thread of realism and responsibility that runs through them all. Probably the reason I like them.