Thursday, June 28, 2012

Part Two: On Being Found

Redemption -- the act of deliverance, rescue, atonement for guilt. All usually through the actions of another, you’ve been taught. You can’t save yourself, you remember the preacherman on the pulpit saying, waving one fist in the air, pounding down the other. 

Yet you’ve always been skeptical of this; skeptical, but you’ve always heard your grandmother and your mother singing, too. Loud altos wearing orange collared olive robes -- standing in back, leading the choir.  

But there have been times when you’ve had to, even while still hearing their voices – even when you knew things wouldn’t be completely clear on the other side. When you knew there would be no light. Redemption, rebirth, starting new: they’re all born out of shadows – out of the broken glass that shows you the moon...just like Chekov said. 

Yet you have to try again this time too, because you’re a crumpled mess of doubt and you’ve got to prove something – to yourself and to a body of still-water. To untwist some of your thoughts. Some of them.

The brown trout just get caught up in the mess of working things out. 

Tonight, let’s go back…let’s redeem ourselves, he says – as if there will be rites and blood, and holy water. And in a way there is, you think, threading light cahill to a bobbin, and mallard flank and CDC to a hook. A small hook. You saw what they were doing last night, rising up and out, and back into the water. Like miniature dolphins. The size they appear when you stood on the Golden Gate Bridge, looking down.

Emergers, he’d said, rummaging through his pack.   

Emergers.

And you remember, and it saves you. Him too.

And perhaps, you think, redemption isn’t something that’s given at all; rather...perhaps it’s something created, drafted yourself out of broken pieces and unwanted parts. Perhaps it’s something rediscovered. Or remembered. Like the yellow index cards you keep in books, holding place for when you return.

34 comments:

  1. redemption isn’t something that’s given at all; rather...perhaps it’s something created, drafted yourself out of broken pieces and unwanted parts.

    Bingo.

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  2. I guess the need for redemption can come in at least two forms: when we've done something that hurts others or ourselves. The first is real, and needs restorative action if we are to be human. The other is real also, or can be, but is more complicated to restore. A baseball player getting a home run can 'redeem' himself, an angler catching fish after being skunked can also, at least to himself (probably not the fish...). Self-redemption after doing something that causes the need is probably harder.
    Hopefully the weather will redeem itself for the fire season you're having.
    Cheers,
    Mike

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    1. Should Fish More (Mike) - Rain last evening! Helped the fire up Boulder's way out a lot. Still going, but some containment now. Hoping for more this afternoon minus lightning! Thanks for reading!

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    2. "Anyone making something new only breaks something else."

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    3. River Mud - True statement.

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  3. Beautiful...whatever you do, keep writing.

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  4. Two topics worth discussing; fly fishing and theology. Hours of fun especially when they compliment each other. Love it!

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    1. Projectflyfish - Interesting analogies, for sure. And very worthy of the discussion. Thanks for stopping by!

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  5. I always enjoy reading your writing but this one in particular is especially beautiful. Thank you for writing.

    Ben

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    1. Ben - Thank you so much for the good words on all accounts. And thank you especially for reading.

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  6. Erin, please don't ever "can't write."

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  7. Nice. You're a post emergent writer (yes, I'll bring farming practices into the fold with religion and fly fishing).

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    1. Rhythm Rider - Fits nicely methinks.

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  8. Erin, there are words to describe this post... But you already used them all.

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    1. backcountryfishnerd - And "thank you" suddenly seems very inadequate...

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  9. Dearest Erin,
    Can't imagine how deep you must search to wrestle these words from your soul. I only know your written words touch the souls of all your faithful readers.
    Alan.

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    1. Alan - Such kind and (very) understanding words. Many thanks as ever, my friend.

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  10. That's a bit heavy Erin but written with a light touch.

    I for one hope i am never redeemed from my piscatorial activities :-)

    Excellent as ever

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    1. Tom - I second that hope of yours. May that sort of redemption never come to pass. ;-)

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  11. Hi Erin;
    Having both a musical and church upbringing, I found this piece to be really unique. Entertaining, thought-provoking, reflective. Very enjoyable. I loved it, also read through the three previous posts as well, all excellent. I especially liked your characterization of redemption...thanks for sharing your talent!

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    1. Don - Sounds like we have very similar upbringings. Good ones to boot. Thanks so much for taking the time to stop by and read...and leaving a comment. Very much appreciated!

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  12. Lovely writing, in a class of its own. Always a pleasure to visit!
    M

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  13. So beautiful, Erin. Wow. This piece gave me such a specific feeling in my chest. And of course I love the Chekov quote. Exactly.

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    1. Emily - Many thanks for the kind words...that feeling in your chest is a big a compliment as there can be!

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  14. Deliverance via duck parts; the sweetest kind.

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    1. Steve - When you put it that way...for sure! (And now I have a very odd mental image!)

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  15. Wow! Your mind intimidates me. Reading your thoughts, though, is reassuring (you are not judgemental), and , as I've said before, addictive.

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    1. Hart - I'm glad it doesn't scare you, as it does me...and I'm glad you keep coming back for more. Your comments always mean a lot and I look forward to them!

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