The water in the pool was slow, calm, and crystal clear. I stood off to one side, a good distance away, watching. Would there be the dimple of a rising fish, its telltale rings expanding outward in little ripples on the glassy surface?
Yes. Yes, there was.
Now it is time sit patiently and think. There is no hurry. What is it eating? Perhaps even more importantly, how can one approach this pool and make a cast without scaring the fish? Wild and wary, they flee for cover at the slightest movement.
The fish rises again.
I guess at what seems the only possibility and tie on a small fly. Slowly, very slowly, I crawl into position. There will be only one chance; a poor cast, and the fly line itself will spook the fish.
Breath. Be calm. Focus. Let the universe be reduced to this one single point, and to this point only. Cast.
Grace comes in so very many moments, and in so very many ways. The fly lands just where I envisioned, begins to drift naturally in the slight current, and another dimply appears on the surface. In this instant everything has been absorbed into one, and it is absolutely perfect.
The fish comes to hand, and it is impossible to be unmoved by its beauty. You behold it just for a moment, and then feel it slip from your hand and swim away.
There are more hours in the day, more water to be explored, more fish to be caught. But you are done. You are done because you know in this moment is everything you need. There is nothing to be added. Your heart is full.
To try for more would ruin it.