The Things We Put Between Ourselves and Stillness

If you are new, the Start Here  page is the best place to get oriented. It explains the Trail Markers and the larger journey behind this work.


Why I Renewed the License

I renewed my fishing license this week. Not because I’ve been fishing lately — I haven’t. And not because I suddenly carved out a free Saturday. I renewed it because I realized a few things about myself that I want to change, and renewing it felt like a quiet beginning to a plan. A way of saying, “I know why I’ve been staying away, and I don’t want to do that anymore.”
I’d love to say I went fishing, but I keep putting things between me and slowing down.

A Quiet Beginning

The renewal wasn’t about fishing. It was about readiness — or the lack of it.


The Distance Between Me and the Water

Fishing has never just been an escape for me. It’s more than that. The quiet alone time refills my cup, but it’s also one of the few places where the noise drops low enough that the real stuff shows up. When I’m standing in the water or prowling along the bank, the world gets simple, and my mind gets honest. Too honest, sometimes.

Where the Noise Finally Drops

Stillness has a way of surfacing the things we’d rather outrun.


The Things I’m Not Ready to Sit With

And right now, there’s a lot I’m not sure I’m ready to sit with.

If I let myself fish, I’d have to feel things I’ve been keeping at arm’s length: my dad, the health issues my kids are facing, the choices they’re making that will shape their future, the distance from my grandkids, one of them moving back into a situation that scares me, another being gone. It’s easier to stay busy. To keep moving. To keep checking boxes and calling it progress.

The Weight Beneath the Surface

Avoidance often looks like productivity.


Avoidance Isn’t Always Running Away

Avoidance isn’t always running away. Sometimes it’s running toward anything that keeps you from slowing down.

Motion as a Shield

Busyness can be the most socially acceptable form of hiding.


The Quiet Kind of Authenticity

But here’s the thing I keep circling back to: telling people what’s going on isn’t the same as dealing with it. We hand out “authenticity points” for saying hard things out loud, but real authenticity is quieter. It’s not the announcement — it’s the aftermath. It’s sitting in the hard stuff long enough for it to do its work. It’s letting the pain marinate instead of trying to turn it into a lesson before it’s even finished hurting.

The Aftermath Is Where the Work Happens

Honesty isn’t the post — it’s the processing.


Why I’ve Stayed Away

Fishing forces that kind of honesty out of me. It always has. Which is probably why I’ve avoided it.

The Mirror I’ve Been Dodging

The water reflects more than the sky.


A Small Act of Courage

Renewing the license didn’t fix anything. It didn’t magically make me ready to face all of it. But it felt like a small act of courage. A way of saying, “When I’m ready, the water will be there. And so will I.”

Readiness Isn’t Required

Sometimes the bravest thing is preparing for the moment you’re not yet ready to meet.


A Step Toward Stillness

Maybe that’s enough for right now — not a breakthrough, not a big revelation. Just a quiet step toward stillness. A reminder that the parts of ourselves we avoid are usually the ones that need us the most.

The Parts That Need Us Most

Avoidance is often a map.


The Water Will Tell the Truth

And when I finally do go back out there, I know exactly what the water will do. It will settle. It will reflect. And it will tell the truth, whether I’m ready for it or not.

I guess I still have some homework to do!


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