Deep Water Nymphing

Essentially, it’s an exercise in groping around in the dark.

“Marco” …. Nothing.

I have no idea where he is beyond “down there”, and know even less about what he’s up to. So I lob the bugs back above the pool and try a different line. Maybe the opaque green depths of the center channel? Or in the shadowy fringe closer to the ledge?

“Marco”…. Nope.

What’s actually happening “down there” is invisible to me. But I have an image in my mind’s eye — which is to say a convincing fiction drawn from a questionable mix of experience, study and God knows what else — and I’m willing to act on it. Switch nymphs, give it another drift. It’s about the best I can do.

“Marco”…. Nada.

It’s not so different from everyday life in the river of humanity really. I live in my head, and you in yours. We do our earnest best to span the divide — language, cultural norms, universal human cues and whatnot — but are the walls between the worlds in any two skulls ultimately permeable? Maybe not. But we sure as hell keep groping.

Adjust the indicator, add weight, try again.

“Marco”…. Nuh-uh.

And again until….

“Polo!”

We connect.