195 A Fish Story

When you ask, you are heard. Answers can be subtle, hilarious, angering, quiet, and any other Eternal variety.

Sometimes I swear I have told a story before.  Our stories are redundant.  We tell the same stories over and over and over.  I am not certain as to why.  I think in some ways, we live in a construct of our stories.  They define us.  They build our walls and our sense of self.  We can change and shift the stories, alter the very core of who we are.  Some do it.  Others stay caught for decades, or lifetimes, in a story that refuses to die.  

On the lighter side, some stories resurface for significance, for a theme or a message.  They are like dreams that repeat.  They are to be pondered and learned from, and then released back into the wild.

So maybe this is a story of catch and release.  I am catching this story, and releasing it.  I think the fish didn’t fare as well.

I might have been twelve, something like that.  We were near the river’s edge.  A man sat at the end of the dock, line in the water.  And I wandered the shore, doing some serious soul searching for someone so young.  Did God really exist?  If so, did God care about my personal journey?  What was the point and meaning of life?  Everything was spiraling as a head storm.  I moved to an egoic state of prove it, “If you are God, prove that you are here.  Have that fisherman catch a big fish, right now.”  

So I watched, and I waited, and nothing happened. I mustered the courage once more.  ” A fish on that line, right now.”  Shock and awe, the fisherman immediately got a hit.  He then reeled up a very large fish, for a dock catch anyway.  Proof.  And it frightened me.  I had tested God, and that is wrong.

Catholic guilt.  Testing God isn’t wrong, but it can backfire.  The fish in the story did not flip backward and slap me in the face, at least not literally.  

When you ask, you are heard.  Answers can be subtle, hilarious, angering, quiet, and any other Eternal variety.  Sorting out the ego answers and getting to the depth of the real ones is the trick.  But don’t be afraid to seek answers from your higher self or the Divinity of all.  It is just waiting to have a minute to speak where you can hear it clearly. 

Author: Michele Plumb Stowell

Michele Stowell was a teacher, a hand holder, and encouraging voice. Born an early Gen Xer, she has lived in Western Washington for the duration. Her children, two spectacular genetic daughters and an uncountable number of marvelous scout and school sons and daughters, shine as her biggest impact and her greatest blessing. Just before her 54th birthday, Michele was diagnosed with stage four cancer. Her writing and art work are expressions of the drama and the joy of living earth bound. On October 24, 2021, Michele was released from her physical body, transported to continue her work on other realms.

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