Hooked and Resistant

Perhaps the missing link is sleep.  I resisted it like a catfish being tugged along the waters by a novice fisherman.  When it finally caught up with me, it was as though I was the catfish flopping around the bottom of the boat, gasping for air as the brutal fisherman, with scars on his fingertips yanked the hook from my mouth.

"Pretty, for a catfish.  A little small, let's throw her back in to see if she's stupid enough to catch the line again."

And so I got thrown back into the waters where possibilities are endless, and like the idiot fish that I am, I bit at the baited hook, and was tugged around again and again, until the fishermen grew bored with the game, and the fish was too tired to bother trying.

In the pre-dawn morning, where the birds become restless in the quiet skies, I was fortunate enough to hear a woodpecker pecking, and the bird that sounds like a monkey swinging from the trees.   I was fortunate enough to see two raccoons scurrying up the hollow tree to make it home before the light of day, while a male and female cardinal sat on a nearby branch, and watched the sun rise.

Quiet.  Peaceful.

Instead of calming my emotions, it left me wanting.  I wanted to be the fisherman on the boat, gazing along the waters, baiting the hook that would give me a few moments of intense pleasure when the line was tugged.  I wanted to be the bird that sat pleasantly next to her mate and watched the sun rise, quiet until, like a rooster waiting for the first crescent of the sun, could begin to tweedle a little twiddle.  I wanted, again, what I've wanted all along this road I've been traveling.

Quiet.  Peace.

Somewhere in my sleepless mind, and in my nervous heart; amidst the morning candescense of newness, I realized that I had, again, been afforded another opportunity to fulfill that want.  I realized that yet another morning spent observing the creatures of nature, and feeling the power of a brand new day, made me a part of that very scene.

I wondered if I was watching and observing alone; or if some other soul, destined to be with my own, was also longing to be the fisherman and not the fish.

And though I am not quite there yet this morning, I see the opportunity is available.  Shall I attempt to reach for this baited hook, in the daylight hours, and rather than resist where the line might take me, bite down hard and ride yet, another wave? 

I haven't much of a choice now, do I?  Wish me luck on the ride.

- - - - -

After I completed this, I realized that lyrics from The Rising by my best friend Bruce were streaming through my consciousness.  Strange, but fitting:

I see you Mary in the garden
In the garden of a thousand sighs
There's holy pictures of our children
Dancin' in a sky filled with light
May I feel your arms around me
May I feel your blood mix with mine
A dream of life comes to me
Like a catfish dancin' on the end of the line

Sky of blackness and sorrow (a dream of life)
Sky of love, sky of tears (a dream of life)
Sky of glory and sadness (a dream of life)
Sky of mercy, sky of fear (a dream of life)
Sky of memory and shadow (a dream of life)
Your burnin' wind fills my arms tonight
Sky of longing and emptiness (a dream of life)
Sky of fullness, sky of blessed life (a dream of life)