
Photo by Tina Hensel
Small
By
Bamboo Bill
Most of us have followed the wrong Gods home at some time or another. Reflection upon ones own mind can be paralyzing in as much as enlightening. Freedom becomes something definable in the material sense of the word but indefinable when one couples the “mind” into the question.
Having spent most of this life wondering around inspecting the nuts and bolts of my own existence I have had to draw upon humanity as a frame of reference, namely the American society. Spending a little time on bent knees in your own yard can be one hell of an adventure.
When ones ego grows rapidly and starts to displace the essence of God some pretty strange behavior can manifest. The I begins to be Self Righteous and seeks to dominate the material world around it. This fits nicely into the capitalistic engine that we all seem to fuel. The word BIG becomes the operative word. It has an entire family of words, such as Biggest, best, fastest, swiftest and so on.
What we don’t realize is that we, along with most of our neighbors tend to glorify all the Bigness of our life. Yet as a society we are seemingly void of happiness. The treadmill of having more, consuming more than another eats at our very souls like a slow cancer.
This treadmill provides for bigger government which cuts us deeper so the taxes can be extracted. When you finally see the truth, you either jump into the fire and die happy with all those material possessions or you run to high ground. Once you reach high ground your country, fellow man and big government define you as a misfit.
I had four karate studios that ran full time and I was known as one of the few karate instructors who turned their love for the martial arts into a vocation not just a hobby. As time went along, my ego grew and grew , daily I struggled magnificently to be caption Kirk of the Star Ship Enterprise, metaphorically speaking. My body worked well and my mind seemed clear as a mountain stream in mid August. All was well in my BIG life.
Then one day I left it all for reasons that are only clear to me now years later. My ego had gotten to Big, to heavy and therefore I knew I must cast off the material world that I had attached myself to. I spent a few years working on bamboo rods living frugally sometimes on the edge of invisibility. There was a sense of loneliness but at the same time a quite calm entered my life. I delt with the loneliness because I knew it was self imposed. One is born into this life alone and certainly dies alone.
Years after my journey, I met an old time friend and past student. In conversation he said, “Bill you have a little life”. Those words have never left me. This friend of mine is a warrior and has fought many battles that successful self employed people always do. I respect him for the man that he is for the total sacrifice for his family. His life has been hell the past few years and I won’t get into it. He has the Big life that he fights to maintain everyday and I have a Little Life that is relatively simply to maintain. But let me say now, the Small life is not easy, the words simple and easy somehow don’t always equate in our throw away society that is laced with instant gratification.
Now I seek not the big fish, not the holly waters, the big money, the big title, the big toys, the newest gadget or the big house. I seek the small in almost everything I do. I’m happier on this journey of being a pilgrim traveling along the road of life that society would define as a minimalist. It is kind of like realizing that a Zen Koan has no true meaning other than it is a tool to get the Zen student to recognize the foolishness of involving the mind in activities that are meaningless. For some of us once we figured this out we left the temple.
When I was thirty my body was fast, strong with the libido running high and my teeth were all there and white. Time went at a slower pace. Today at 55 my teeth are leaving me at an increasing faster rate and time is traveling faster also. Interesting comparison isn’t it. Life is coming to an end like a stream meandering down through a valley always moving always descending. A blink of the eye and I will begin another journey.
The Small is found everywhere: the red wing Black Bird with its song at dusk, my dogs excitement for the wild nature around her as we walk along a stream, the cry of a mountain lion right before dawn, a trout’s wink before he takes my fly, a crescent moon that reminds me just to smile, a Golden Eagle in flight, the sound of silence embedded in the deep woods, that feel of a plan in my hands, a gentle poem that I wrote so many years ago when read it touches my very own soul as if I read it for the very first time. The small is found in the void of the big and the finger of God is there.

Those Little Creeks
By
Bamboo Bill
I love those little creeks with wild trout in them. You may ask what does he mean by small creek. That’s a fair enough question. I’m talking about a creek that you might be able to jump over; a pine tree might fall across it and you use it for a bridge to make the other side if you fall in…you won’t drown. So a little creek might be pretty small or have a little size to it. Kind of like looking at a lady that weighs 118lbs in a short black skirt that has really nice legs.
There is a little creek close to my house and you have to walk into it. I never run into other fly fishermen, only yuppies ridding their mountain bikes. They mostly say hello when they pass me and I respond likewise trying to maintain that fresh western perspective that I enjoyed over 30 years ago when I came to Colorado. The bikers don’t linger, they are in a hurry to cover ground, cover distance. Not I, I walk a normal clip for at least an hour before I decide to fish. I often stop to look at a wild rose, partake in the eating of a few wild berries or watch a deer drink from the creek and then saunter off into the dark shadows of the pine forest.
I like the idea that if I don’t get that first cast right on the money every trout in that section of the stream will run up and down telling every other trout around there that there is fisherman near by, better beware dudes. You may ask how big the fish are. Well…., and I’m smiling right now…”big enough”. A 12 inch wild trout strikes hard and when he knows he is caught by that stupid little bug he was trying to eat fights with no compromise. He may jump out of the water and will appear during those brief moments in flight, while hanging in the air, 40 percent larger than he really is. This is a perfect example of relativity. With the small creek as a frame of reference he appears bigger than he really is.
Anyway, many of these creek trout are beautiful beyond words. After you release them, there is a good whole sum feeling one gets deep inside your chest. It comes from knowing that this little fish might live through the cold winter months and be bigger next year. You know deep inside the odds are against him but none the less you be back next year hoping to catch him again. It is the type of fishing spot you don’t talk about, you keep it tight.
The walk back to the truck is always a pleasure; there is a nice tired feeling from my back down through my legs. Nothing more nothing less. Where there are some people that would say I wasted a good God given day…I know otherwise…small trout on a little creek can be just what a fisherman needs to rub up against in order to clear his mind and put a chuckle into his laugh and spring in his walk.
This ones for my friends who need the mountains, cold mountain streams
and wild trout as much as I do.