Stoicism and fly-fishing — Week six

Here are last week’s thoughts.

“This is what you should teach me, how to be like Odysseus—how to love my country, wife and father, and how, even after suffering shipwreck, I might keep sailing on course to those honorable ends.” —Seneca, Moral Letters

The interesting thing about fly-fishing is how it’s affected my life. It’s been a reflection and textbook and a wonderful teacher. My experience with the bountiful resources of this country, my family and my friends have all been enhanced because of what fly-fishing has taught me. Even the setbacks have not diminished my enthusiasm and affection for the sport.

“Enough of this miserable, whining life. Stop monkeying around! Why are you troubled? What’s new here? What’s so confounding? The one responsible? Take a good look. Or just the matter itself? Then look at that. There’s nothing else to look at. And as far as the gods go, by now you could try being more straightforward and kind. It’s the same, whether you’ve examined these things for a hundred years, or only three.” —Marcus Aurelius, Meditations

Part of the reward of teaching people fly-fishing is seeing the transformation from, “this is hard” to “hey I think I can do this.” What changed? First they realized they could do it and second the whole fly-fishing things wasn’t nearly as hard as they were lead to believe (or led themselves to believe.)

It’s hard to start whining when fly-fishing. maybe that’s why a go when I’m stressed or need a break. And if I start whining when I’m fishing? Well, that doesn’t last long. A moment of reflection on why and where sets me straight.

“For I believe a good king is from the outset and by necessity a philosopher, and the philosopher is from the outset a kingly person.” —Musonius Rufus, Lectures

I believe a good fly-fisher is also from the outset and by necessity a philosopher. Or as Roderick Haig-Brown put it, “Our tradition is that of the first man who sneaked away to the creek when the tribe did not really need fish.” Much has been written about the being philosophical about fly fishing. It makes sense. You don’t stick with this sport unless you’re are philosophical about it. And good guides are, by nature, philosophers.

“Love the humble art you have learned, and take rest in it. Pass through the remainder of your days as one who whole-heartedly entrusts all possessions to the gods, making yourself neither a tyrant nor a slave to any person.” —Marcus Aurelius, Meditations

Fly-fishing is nourishment for my mind, body and soul. When I was younger, I could not have articulated the benefits. I knew I enjoyed it; it brought me peace. Now it brings me rest. It is a sanctuary and solace. I do it for my own reasons and don’t have to rely on anything other than a place to go and a few fish to play with.

I’ve never had to make a living as a guide, I do it because I enjoy my craft and enjoy sharing it. Not having to do it to make ends meet gives me freedom from obligation and the ability to be the guide people want to be with. Or not. I’m going to be the guide I’ve learned to be. I’ll continue to fish even when I stop guiding.

“But what does Socrates say? ‘Just as one person delights in improving his farm, and another his horse, so I delight in attending to my own improvement day by day.’” —Epictetus, Discourses

One reason I fish as much as I can is to continue to learn. I love to try out new rods, rigs, techniques, etc. Every trip is a chance to delight in learning something new or discovering a better way to do something.

“In your actions, don’t procrastinate. In your conversations, don’t confuse. In your thoughts, don’t wander. In your soul, don’t be passive or aggressive. In your life, don’t be all about business.” —Marcus Aurelius, Meditations

Over years I’ve developed similar unspoken guidelines for guiding, teaching or fishing. They are part of the mental game. Each has a purpose, making me better at what I do when I follow them. Having physical skills are important, but I’ve learned that I neglect the thinking side at my peril.

“One person, on doing well by others, immediately accounts the expected favor in return. Another is not so quick, but still considers the person a debtor and knows the favor. A third kind of person acts as if not conscious of the deed, rather like a vine producing a cluster of grapes without making further demands, like a horse after its race, or a dog after its walk, or a bee after making its honey. Such a person, having done a good deed, won’t go shouting from rooftops but simply moves on to the next deed just like the vine produces another bunch of grapes in the right season.” —Marcus Aurelius, Meditations

I bumped into a stranger on the stream the other day. We shared a little “which way you fishing” banter and talked about how the fishing had been. It usually ends there. This time I dug out my fly box to show him exactly what I had been using and how I had set up my rig. He was very appreciative, and we parted with a smile. It’s the guide/teacher in me that wants to share my knowledge but I don’t push it on people or try to “sell them.” He doesn’t owe me a thing other than to pay it forward when he has the chance. Will I know if he does? Unlikely, and I that’s just fine.