Making Things Happen by Slowing Down

I am in the midst of 17 days on an Island in Panama, the interim period between hosting two groups to chase tuna, billfish and various inshore species like roosterfish and cubera snapper. Our first trip was hugely successful – the only consistent complaint I heard from the 20 assembled anglers was that the tuna were too big, with the average approaching 100 pounds apiece.

With six days between groups, I could have gone home and flown back for round two. I didn’t for several reasons, the cost and hassle of a plane fare being the least of them. Primarily I stayed because I could. Like most of you I worked an occasionally dreary job for 30 years, one that sometimes prevented me from maxxing out the fun-meter. The last time my wife and I took two weeks or more off from work was November 2016 when we went to southern Africa. So even though parts of this six-day period have been slow, don’t think for one second that I’m not exceptionally aware and grateful for how fortunate I am. In fact, it has been a good lesson in how to embrace living slower.

With the lodge full several of the days, I’ve been moved to a room at a beachside bar across the island. It requires a ride in a side-by-side through the jungle to get there, so I choose my times carefully. There’s also the issue of air-conditioning. The generator is off most of the day, and we’re near the equator, which means it’s hot. I wake up whenever I feel like it, work at the bar until my computer starts to run out of juice, then call my man Jose to pick me up and take me to the lodge. Frankly, I have work to do, but not enough to keep me busy all day, so I pace myself. I visit with the staff. I take walks on the beach, and I’ve set up a makeshift office on a casita deck with a fan aimed at me – I tend to watch more YouTube than work.

At least for the first couple of days, this was distinctly uncomfortable for me. I am used to hustling all the time. There is always something else to do at home. For the last 20 years, in addition to my full-time office gig I’ve had a second full-time gig as an outdoor writer. Time was always at a premium. I typically did not allow myself the luxury of slowing down, and when I did I tended to mentally beat myself up for it.

But I find that this week my thoughts are crisper, my happiness quotient is higher, and there’s no destructive urge to beat myself up mentally. And I realize that we Americans tend to equate busyness with happiness and value. Sometimes that’s healthy, sometimes it’s not. When I think back on my best days fishing, there are very few when I forced something to happen. In fact, the best ones were typically those where I hunkered into an area and took my time. I retied knots. I made sure that my baits were rigged perfectly. I allowed the Senko to soak in the strike zone. There’s nothing wrong with being busy, but the biggest gift I’ve given myself of late is learning that it’s occasionally ok to let that urge go.