This summer I picked up a new hobby in fishing. I've gotten so into it that I'm considering upgrading my "Conservation" fishing permit to a "Sport" license. In my countless fishing trips near-by and afar, I'm starting to grasp the spiritual aspect of fishing.
Fishing is like a religion, it starts with faith. You've got to believe without seeing - the same mystery force behind the kind of blind love, unconditional help, and reasonless pursuit. Despite the stories you hear, the fishing signs you see, the articles you read, or whatever Google Image brings up, and even your own experiences, the thought of "maybe there are no fish here today" somehow always come across one's mind. Believing is the hardest part; it's the part that defies human logic and principles of experimental methods. To fish is to take this leap of faith. It starts the moment you believe that there ARE fish in the lake.
The ritual aspect of fishing is more clear-cut. The way a fisherman preps his tackle box and hooks his bait is as consistent as any celebration. As a church-goer gives all his attention to the priest, eyeing him, carefully listening to his words, through him he connects with God. And the fisherman? His eyes are locked on the float, hands tight on the fishing rod, trying to "feel" the perhaps-non-existent-fish through the subtle movement of the fishing line. Each vibration, each shock gives him new hope. Then comes patience... perhaps one's worst virtue, denies church-goer entry to heaven, and fisherman his catch.
Religion is but a back-and-forth rally between faith and reality.
I guess the only way to understand it is to be at the lake every Sunday ;)
Fishing is like a religion, it starts with faith. You've got to believe without seeing - the same mystery force behind the kind of blind love, unconditional help, and reasonless pursuit. Despite the stories you hear, the fishing signs you see, the articles you read, or whatever Google Image brings up, and even your own experiences, the thought of "maybe there are no fish here today" somehow always come across one's mind. Believing is the hardest part; it's the part that defies human logic and principles of experimental methods. To fish is to take this leap of faith. It starts the moment you believe that there ARE fish in the lake.
The ritual aspect of fishing is more clear-cut. The way a fisherman preps his tackle box and hooks his bait is as consistent as any celebration. As a church-goer gives all his attention to the priest, eyeing him, carefully listening to his words, through him he connects with God. And the fisherman? His eyes are locked on the float, hands tight on the fishing rod, trying to "feel" the perhaps-non-existent-fish through the subtle movement of the fishing line. Each vibration, each shock gives him new hope. Then comes patience... perhaps one's worst virtue, denies church-goer entry to heaven, and fisherman his catch.
Religion is but a back-and-forth rally between faith and reality.
I guess the only way to understand it is to be at the lake every Sunday ;)
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