What matters to you and what matters to me don’t always line up. That’s not a failure of character; it’s just two anglers wading different water. Same river, maybe, but standing in different seams, reading different currents.
We carry different ideals, beliefs, and ethics. Mine weren’t store-bought. They were shaped the same way a good cast is—by repetition, correction, and a few ugly tangles no one needs to hear about. The differences are the point. Uniformity makes for lousy fishing and worse men.
I’ve never been beaten in the ways that matter. I’ve taken hits, sure. Anyone who keeps showing up does. I’ve watched my shortcomings laid out like wet flies on a patch by people who seem to think exposure equals insight. Truth is, I tied most of them myself. I know where they fail and when to change patterns.
I keep an honest inventory of my flaws. Some get trimmed back. Some stay because they still catch fish. What seems to unsettle you isn’t that I have them—it’s that I don’t pretend the river runs clean all the time.
If my honesty makes you uncomfortable, that’s worth noticing. Usually means there’s something rising you’d rather not hook. It’s easier to critique another man’s drift than to admit you’ve been lining fish all afternoon.
This isn’t the hill I’m dying on. I don’t need to win the argument or out-cast anyone watching. I’m content standing mid-stream—boots steady on the rocks, line mended, ethics intact—waiting for the right moment to let the fly swing through on its own terms.
"Unto they own self be true"
Polonius (Hamlet William Shakespeare )
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