Enjoy The Wait

When I was a boy, our family would visit my aunt Sally and Uncle Loyd in the Missouri Ozarks, trips that included fishing for bass in Table Rock Lake. I always looked forward to when it was my turn to accompany Loyd on his boat. Instead of sleeping in my bedroom in our family’s cabin, I’d stay the night in my aunt and uncle’s guest room, rising when it was still dark so we could get to the lake before it was hot and the fish retreated to the cooler depths.

With the fishing rod Loyd had loaned me across my lap, we’d motor slowly out of the dock and into the quiet stillness of the lake at sunrise. I could think of nothing as peaceful in my native Providence as that great body of water at rest beneath an awakening day. I was both excited for the fishing we were about to commence, and content just sitting in the boat, surrounded by a world alive and unbothered. Loyd would take us to one of his favorite corners, usually with tall reeds and shaded by overhanging trees, and we’d begin.

Often we’d cast toward the reeds, dropping our lures as close to the shore as possible, then reeling it back in, jerking every few turns to simulate bugs skipping on the surface. Sometimes, though, we’d just drop our line straight down, affixing a bobber to monitor any nibbles. Either way, there was always waiting; waiting to see if this next cast would attract a bite, or waiting as the bobber floated undisturbed near the boat’s hull. If you don’t like this kind of waiting, then you don’t like fishing, as it’s mostly what you do. We didn’t even talk, Loyd and I. He didn’t ask me about school or what sports I liked. We just sat there together, waiting.

Sally told my mom that Loyd felt I understood fishing. I think he was right, and I considered it a high compliment. I never tried to find a pond near my home, however. I think I was mostly practicing for what I’d eventually do every morning, rising before the sun when the world was quiet and still and I’d sit alone, doing nothing for a bit but sip coffee and stare. You have to know there’s always something alive and interesting beneath that peaceful surface even though you can’t see it. It’s there and will come to you if you’re patient and can enjoy the wait.

If you like the ideas and perspectives expressed here, feel free to contact me about individual coaching and group workshops.

Everyone Has What It Takes: A Writer’s Guide to the End of Self-Doubt
You can find William at: williamkenower.com