Fishing

I am still somewhat shaken by yesterday's encounter with CCP and have that unsettling feeling one gets while standing upright in a canoe in the middle of a lake. You are still dry but the canoe is sliding around in the water under your feet as you strive to maintain your balance and contemplate how to attain a more stable posture without the magical intervention of a sky hook.

I often remind myself what Henry David Thoreau wrote:

"Time is but the stream I go fishing in."

And, knowing streams constantly change over time (whatever that might be), the fishing is a great comfort. For, while while both the content and character of the stream may change, the fishing never stops — even as old fishermen are replaced by the young — until the light dies at end of days.

So, as I think upon CCP this day, I also think of the imprisoned John Bradford, as he watched a fellow inmate in the Tower of London walking to his execution, saying:

"There but for the grace of God, goes John Bradford."

And, so it is that I must put yesterday behind me now and be off a'fishing ... while I still can.