Over the past week, I've developed a new afternoon ritual. As monsoon season is finally upon us, I spend a few moments sitting in my breezeway, listening to the tremendous storms, reading a book. It's all part of my new "slow down" mentality (see Kindness of Friends). The temperature drops significantly, and a wild storm is raging all around me. In an odd sense, I've come to find it's the most relaxing part of my day. I'm sure there's some bizarre 2020 analogy there, but I'll avoid analyzing it too much for the time being. Perhaps another day.

A few weeks ago, this was not the case. Jacob and I headed out to one of our favorite stretches of water filled with all my little brook trout friends. The water levels were not what one would consider ideal.

You see, we've been in a prolonged drought here for quite some time. There are several Craig Childs’ paragraphs that I could direct you to in Apocalyptic Planet, but we'll skip that for now. The point is, the high desert is becoming even more of a desert, and it's not great for my little buddies.

The second problem was that there were more vehicles in the parking area than I have ever seen before. It looked as if the entire world was trying to escape our shared harsh reality on this one tiny stream. I can't fault anyone, hell, I was doing the same thing. None of us is right; this stream belongs to no one, but all of us collectively.

I recalled this trip while sitting in the storm this afternoon—the drastic change from just last week, just last year.

We fished for a few hours, not very long at all, but enough to get out feet wet. I visited with a few friends, only to leave them with the promise that I'll be back again soon. I'm sure that I'm more excited about that then they are.

The world in which we find ourselves can, I believe, evoke one of two emotions; selfishness or empathy. Of course, self-interest is easier. It always is. We all want the world we used to know back. The harder path, the one more difficult to follow, and even more difficult to stick to is empathy. To be empathetic with those around us who are also trying to find their way. To be empathetic with ourselves, acknowledging that we have no idea what we're doing, not really. To understand that we indeed are all in this together.

I fear that many of my fishing adventures this year may not be as epic as they've been in years past, but that's okay. I've got a few good books and memories to hold me over—a cool breeze and a view that I should never take for granted.