I recently had been advised that I needed to be returning to my roots…the fundamental things that are core to me. I was reminded of how my discovery of the art and poetry of catch and release fly fishing (especially for steelhead), and my passion for the outdoors… standing in rivers and streams often fed my soul so deeply; and for many years was my church, a place of wonder and majesty and magic.

So many things found me, passed through me, around me, just like how the river of life is supposed to flow. This particular fish, in that particular moment… that Norman MacLean book, and this specific quote came to mean much more to me than most will ever understand.

Now, as I try to craft my own words into something meaningful and put them out there, I find myself turning over the rocks in the river again, and discovering those timeless raindrops, those tears in the rain.

“Eventually, all things merge into one, and a river runs through it. The river was cut by the world’s great flood and runs over rocks from the basement of time. On some of the rocks are timeless raindrops. Under the rocks are the words, and some of the words are theirs.

I am haunted by waters.”

— Norman Maclean, A River Runs Through It

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