My grandparents owned a house on the river, so I’ve been fishing at least a few times. To the best of knowledge, though, I’ve never actually caught a fish. That’s okay, because I always caught something. Fresh ideas, new concepts, the common cold, a taste for cheap beer, etc. One time, I even caught a bowling pin.
The least I’ve ever had to invest in terms of preparation was the time I went out noodling with the author of Odd Oklahoma. One thing about noodling is that every time you stick your hand in a dark and slimy hole, you are performing an act of observation to find out whether there is really is something alive in there, and this naturally puts me in mind of a certain theoretical cat. I mentioned this to him on the road the other day, and he whipped up an insightful post about fishing hereabouts. Here is my favorite bit, wherein the metaphorical waveform resolves into reality:
One’s fears and hopes are in a superposition of expectations, until the wavefunction collapses in painful excitement or disappointing relief.
Out of context, this could apply to so many uncanny moments of triumph and/or failure. Every time we reach for the high-risk high-return, these are probable outcomes. I suppose the trick is to know when to put your hand in play.
