“No one knows what tomorrow holds.”

…but the sun is going to rise. There will be a long line at the popular coffee shop. Deadlines at work and school will come and go. Children will still require bedtime routines, and the same sitcom reruns will minister to worn-out parents. We know a lot of what that tomorrow holds.

And trout will still rise.

Fish don’t care much about politics. Neither do they pay attention to the latest academic journals, the stock market, or the obituaries. If it doesn’t have to do with survival today they’re not too interested. Without social media to burden them, they’re just occupied with picking out acceptable morsels from an endless barrage of potential foodstuffs. When the mood strikes them they look up. Why? It is in their nature. That is how they, along with the river they are swimming in and the bugs they are consuming, were designed.

It should be some small comfort that somewhere trout are sipping mayflies right now. With the endless barrage of potential sources of worry that we are faced with every day – choices that we are told could make or break our futures… or those of our children, neighbors, and all humanity – we should take solace in the fact that fish are rising. They don’t need us. We might fail by some subjective or even quantifiable and objective standard, but they’ll keep right on eating bugs.

This is not to say our decisions don’t matter. They do. And they have real repercussions – for our futures and those of our children, neighbors, and even our beloved cold water fishes. When you are right on top of something it looks enormous. The greatest game ever played, the largest deal ever brokered, the most important election of our lifetime. Things matter. But very few decisions will make or break the nature of our existence. Have such scenarios been teased? Of course. The twentieth century was nothing if not a laundry list of potential existential threats. Yet here we, and the trout, are.

Don’t be mistaken: don’t think it can’t happen just because it hasn’t happened yet. We all have our time and so does this earth. But what determines that isn’t going to be us.  It is the same will that drives the sun and trout to rise. To be completely honest, things might all wrap up tomorrow. That is a possibility. It doesn’t mean you should spend your final hours wringing your hands or burying yourself under every blanket and pillow. Imagine your great grandfather lived that way. What wouldn’t have been built, written, or thought?

Who wouldn’t have been loved as they should?

Less importantly, which fish wouldn’t have been caught?

So you should plan on fishing tomorrow, too. Plan on the sun rising, sitting in long drive-through lines, and dealing with the minutiae and the tedious. Bank on fulfilling your obligations and keeping your promises. Set your mind on building, writing, thinking, and loving.  Regardless of what you think tomorrow means, plan on loving and living after tomorrow.

Just be sure to have some dry flies handy.

 

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This post originally appeared the day before the 2020 presidential election. I don’t know who is going to win. At this moment I don’t know how November 3rd… or 4th… or 5th went. If you’re reading this well into 2021 or beyond, I can’t say how the particulars of the following months played out.

I can say that I’m sure there are still trout that are rising, redfish that are tailing, and carp that are nose down in some mud.

There are inevitably some big problems in your life and in the world. I’m confident that there is a solution. Fish aren’t the solution. But there is no reason why there can’t be some fish along the way.