The water came against me unrelenting. A constant against an object that while in the way, was far from immovable. Flowing against the thigh of my upstream leg then rebounding against itself in a small boil while seeking the path of least resistance on its journey downstream. Had I not been there, it would have done much the same, save for the slight hesitation it had endured. Looking downstream my mind wondered at its unstoppable course as the slight burble of surface disturbance dissipated and was visible no more. Had I even been there? That water and I would never cross paths again. And unlike my journey which would eventually slow and then end, water in it’s flow never stops. It may change its path or form or go from fresh to salt, yet it’s journey never ceases.
Waters course is ever changing and changes everything. The subtlest raindrop changes what it impacts if only to moisten soil or nourish the dust of pollen. It brings life and enhances life. Nothing in it’s path is left as encountered, as is the fisherman. One cannot stand in a waters flow and yet remain unchanged in some manor.
Turning upstream I studied the flow while false-casting. Would I be fortunate enough to see a rise? Or be graced to feel the the weight of a fish through cork? My mind once again returned to the pressure against my waders. Each time my mind is swept along by water, and if not for the entire length, I am forever part of the journey. Never to be the same.
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