This past month, I brought together two old friends for a fly-fishing trip to Sedona, Arizona. That’s more or less what I’ve been doing for about these last twenty-something years: bro visits…

The false belief I’ve had my entire life is that the so-called spiritual path will deliver me from self-doubt, anxiety, difficulty, anger, any negative feelings I have really or that I identify as negative…

The whole thing feels like income and bills and over time, the complexity and frequency of those dynamics seem to do nothing but grow. You must keep income coming…

Previous to my Rocky Mountain tour through Idaho, Montana, and Wyoming, I hadn’t seriously considered the dangers of fly fishing other than slipping on a rock and twisting an ankle or even toppling over with the small possibility of drowning should my waders fill with water…

Most recently, since I live in Florida full-time, I’ve been walking the beach looking for snook while I wait for further trout fishing opportunities…

Rain jacket or not, the weekend passed without catching a damn thing. I even extended the trip by an extra two days…

Fly fishing seemed fascinating for no other reason probably than that fly casting looked complicated and required that you stand in the middle of a river or creek.