So, a fly fisherman dies, and he wakes up in the
afterlife, lying next to a beautiful trout stream. The sun is glistening off
the water, and because it is a crisp, clear day, he can see the wavy reflection
of the mountain peaks in the smooth, swirling water. He sees a trout rise
gently to a floating mayfly in the middle of the river, so he picks up his fly
rod, ties on a #12 Quill Gordon, wades out into the river, and casts to the
rising fish. On his very first cast, he hooks him. The trout shakes his head
for a few seconds, then makes a long, hard run across the river and stops and
pouts for a moment, a strong clue that this is a brown trout, the fly
fisherman’s favorite fish. After a 5 minute game of tug ‘o war in which it was
never clear who the winner would be, the fish finally relents and comes closer
to his captor. This was the fly fisherman’s favorite moment – when he could see
his prey floating effortlessly in the water, a long, shiny, buttery-brown
creature, angry but defeated, his fins waving ever so slightly to maintain his
balance. The fisherman reached out with his net, which panicked the fish and
initiated another two or three minutes of battle. Finally, the exhausted fish
came to the net – a flawlessly magnificent 22” brown trout, deeply colored and
cold to the touch.
Then he sees another fish rise upstream. He wades. He
casts. He catches the fish, again on his very first cast. Another trout – a lively,
acrobatic rainbow – well over 20”. Of course, the fly fisherman is thrilled!
Eternity will be exactly what he had hoped for – an endless string of days full
of big, dumb trout.
That night as the fly fisherman lay in his bed in his
cabin by the river, he dreamed of flowing water, mayflies, and rising fish… big
fish. In the morning he awoke with the sun and hurried to the river. The trout
were rising to a steady hatch of delicate mayflies. This second day was a
duplicate of the first: more big fish, always caught on the very first cast. Never
a wasted cast. Never a missed fish. It was easy, almost too easy.
And the third day. The same. Exactly the same. A 20+”
fish on every cast. It was too easy. The fly fisherman began to wonder if he
would ever again not catch a fish.
At the end of the third day, as he stepped out of the
river, he saw an old man – the river keeper – walking along the river bank
toward him. As they approached one another the old man asked the obvious
question: “How’s the fishin’?”
The fly fisherman replied, “Great! Fabulous! A fish
on every cast! I’ve never seen anything like it!”
The river keeper nodded his head and replied, “Yeah,
that’s what everyone says… at first.”
Then, as his adrenaline and enthusiasm began to
settle down, the fly fisherman continued, “But you know, I’m starting to get a
little… bored, I guess.” Then, as he paused to swat a mosquito on his neck, he
said, “I didn’t think there would be boredom in heaven.”
The river keeper gave the fly fisherman a puzzled
look, and replied, “Heaven?”
****
Success is great. It’s what we all yearn for. And
yet, as much as I hate to admit it, challenge and failure add spice to life. Without
the agony of defeat, we’d never fully grasp the thrill of victory. We only know
and understand success when we have something – failure – to compare it to. Many
activities in life – including fly fishing for trout; no, especially fly fishing for trout – are frustrating because they are
hard, and success is rare and fleeting. And yet, while an endless string of successes
might seem like it would be heavenly… I don’t think so. Indeed, it might be
just the opposite.
