This weekend I discovered and rediscovered two new loves: fly-fishing and headstands.
I grew up watching my Dad and brother fly fish and have done my own share of fishing with a Snoopy pole and bobber. That kind of fishing wasn’t really for me though. No problems with threading worms onto hooks or gently slipping fish back into the water — my nemesis was boredom. Cast the line, sit and wait. Stare at the bobber. Pick your nose. Maybe catch a fish. Fly fishing changes that. It’s an art, a constant physical activity that demands your full attention at every moment. It’s a lot like yoga, so it’s no big surprise that I enjoyed it so much.
For Christmas I got a fly fishing “starter kit“: rod, reel, vest and some flies and was enrolled in LL Bean’s Fly Fishing Essentials I for Women on July 18th. (Side note: I highly, highly recommend L.L. Bean’s Oudoor Discovery School! Great instructors!) The two other women in the class and I met our instructor Sue and got right down to business. Four hours of theory, knot tying, and casting practice later I was feeling fairly confident in my skills and totally in love.
Sunday we got to practice a little in the pond in the backyard. My form totally fell apart in most places as I tried to adapt to a totally different terrain than the smooth, wide-open spaces I learned in the day before. Most of the fishing time was spent looking like this:
Later in the day I got a chance to practice my headstands in the yard. I haven’t been able to practice them at all in the studio, so this was a real treat to rediscover something that I am learning to love. Inversions and I haven’t always been friends, but I think I’m falling in love (ha!) with headstands.
I didn’t catch any fish and I didn’t get my legs straight, but each activity brought so much joy that it didn”t matter that neither is perfect. I have a lifetime of fly fishing and headstands in front of me. It’s doubtful that they’ll ever be perfect no matter how hard I try … and that’s the beauty of it. Yoga has taught me to find the light in the imperfections and be comfortable and happy where I am — not where I want to be. Of course I want to be a better fisherman and to get my legs straight up overhead, but the journey is the fun part, not the result.
I hear there’s some killer landlocked salmon at the end of the journey, too.