Every day on my way to work there is a small patch of water right in the middle of all the commercial buildings, and the busy road. And just about everyday you will see him fishing there. Just one lone man standing on the bank with a pole.
I can’t imagine there are any fish in that hole filled with water, but I guess there must be. Maybe it is just the hope of fish that matters.
Maybe it’s not really about the fishing at all.
I know one thing, he has made time to hollow out a sacred space in his day.
Maybe he even prays, maybe just standing there gazing into the water is a prayer all by itself.
I keep wanting to pull over and talk to him.
I love the idea that he just goes. I love the idea that he has found a measure of peace amidst the backdrop of our traffic stampede.
While we are all racing by trying to beat each other to work and get that coveted spot, he just fishes. I envy him a little.
I’m thinkin’ he has found the secret. That guy has found his little slice of Heaven right in the middle of town. I don’t know anything about his life or what he does or if he works, and it doesn’t really matter.
He is an opportunist. He makes time.