I’ve been doing a lot of observing of late. I have always been an observer, but now I am a more intentional observer. It’s less about observing as a defensive strategy to keep myself safe and more of an intentional strategy to stay curious and open-minded in an effort to learn something new or savor something inspiring.
A lot of my observing lately has been in relation to my new project - a book and workshop that connects wellbeing and flyfishing. I have observed how some people go quiet when I mention this new project, while others express excitement and enthusiasm to try a class. I observed that those who focused on performing well in the workshop tended to struggle more than those who allowed themselves to fully immerse in a new environment. I observed that those who weren’t comparing themselves against others seemed to be more relaxed and better able to reset when something didn’t go quite as planned. Powerful learning through observation. It always seems to be much more than merely fishing that we are doing out there.
I have flyfished off and on (mostly off) for nearly 30 years. It’s never been about catching a fish for me. When I put myself in an environment to flyfish, I observe myself as a better human. I slow down. I am able to check out of the rush of daily life and check into the pace of nature. And I always return home nourished, having refilled my tank. I savor little things like the sound, sensation and temperature of the water cascading around my shins, the sound and sight of rustling tree leaves along the river bed, the symphony of birds, the peaceful motion of casting, the different ways the water rushes, pools, bubbles and swirls, and I always pause and watch an eagle or egret soar above me. As shown in the picture above, I even savored returning from being on the river to witness the awe of sparrows working swiftly to build nests in shoes that had been hung from a hook only a short time before.
While I certainly enjoy catching a fish once in a while, it’s really only to have an opportunity to get a close-up view of their intricate patterns and beautiful colors. As my friend and workshop partner, Mark, says - “each fish is a hand-painted work of art.” I have heard many times over the years that it’s not called “catching," but rather “fishing.” I might call my experience “being” while holding a fishing rod.
In the workshop, I talk to participants about giving themselves permission to BE in the experience of the day. We do that by offering experiential practices to shift participants from the unnatural rush of their daily routines to the natural rhythm of the river and land. Observing participants before, during and after can be amazing. Participants routinely share how relaxed they feel doing simple breathing or standing in the river. Others share how beneficial it is to put down their phones and immerse themselves in the flow of the day.
Much of the opportunity we are creating in our workshop is to find space to observe and discover things that can support one’s wellbeing on-going. The workshop could be a one-hit wonder for some, the beginning of a newfound obsession for others, or, like me, a tool to return to that provides an opportunity to slow down, reset and support wellbeing at different times and seasons of life.
If you’d like to join us for this unique experience, you can register by visiting Margo + Lola. For more information on how we see flyfishing as a platform for health and social change, please visit ReelWell Project.