This post has two purposes. 1, to suggest that if you’ve wanted to meditate but not had success—try going fishing. 2, to claim that fishing and meditation should be held in equal esteem. I don’t know whether that means one or the other should rise or fall in esteem for you in particular, because this depends on your current estimation of each—but you should hold the same reverence for both practices.
Many are drawn to the meditative traditions found within zen buddhism, vipassana yoga, and other calming or insight-focused practices—often associated with “The East,” and often with some implicit sense that Europe and the Americas ‘failed’ to produce a meditation tradition.
I have tried and bounced off of several flavors of eastern meditation, so one could fairly consider my observation to be a form of sour grapes—but I maintain that there is a meditation tradition more approachable than those mentioned above, that is practiced (with regional variations) worldwide, that is equally worthy of esteem as the traditions often idolized—and that is fishing.
While the stated goal of many classical meditation traditions is “to clear one’s mind,” the act of clearing one’s mind can be difficult to replicate. (Coincidentally, Scott Alexander noted just today that he’s in the same boat as me.)
Fishing offers the advantage of setting an attainable goal. “Imagine what the fish is thinking right now.” And we can imagine what it is like to be a fish1. And placing oneself in mindset of a fish is soothing.
“The water I swim through is the same temperature as my body, maybe a little cooler below, and a little warmer above. The sun glints against my scales.”
“I feel exposed in the bright sun, clear water. I will seek a weedy patch, shady with coontail. I tuck my body into the coontail, I wait for the flash of silver, the sun on the scales of my minnow.”
You guide your boat so that you can replicate the experience of the large mouth bass, the ambush predator.
Along with the analogous internal practice, fishing can serve as a direct one-to-one substitute in many meditative trappings. Fish are most active at dawn and at dusk, when winds are low and waters are calm—so whether you’d prefer to experience a rosy sunrise or a tranquil sunset, your fishing will be at its best.
One can take a weeklong silent retreat (and there’s a flourishing industry supporting you).
One can study under a guru.
Fishing practice can be pursued in 10 minute increments (off a pier) or daylong plunges (on a boat, with a packed sandwich).
In addition to these direct parallels, fishing has some distinct advantages.
The eternally gorgeous scenery, whether you are on a murky pond or an open lake, whether you fish at dawn or at sunset.
The year-round accessibility as long as you’re willing to pursue several species2, and the resulting seasonal flow of your attentions.
The fish fry you can share with your family, neighbors, or faithful dog.
I also appreciate silent and knowing understanding of others who practice.
“How did you spend your week off?” “Fishing.” “Ah, sometimes you just need to go fishing.”
as much as if a fish could speak, we could not understand what he was saying
Check with your state’s natural resources organization, but as a rule of thumb, fish are off-limits during their spawning seasons.