Mike Connor wrote:
[snipper]

Nevertheless, it is good to talk about it again at least. I will just have
to wait and see what transpires. Perhaps my enthusiasm will return. Maybe I
am just getting old faster than I thought.

Actually Mike, inasmuch as you are looking for a solution perhaps the
answer lies in the second and second last stanzas.


Behold the winding, dancing, sparkling stream,
ethereal, enchanting, as in some joyous youthful dream,
beheld, and then, the all consuming wish,
to carry home the stream´s elusive fish.

But dreams fade rapidly at last, like youth.
Advancing age, and weariness, reveal the truth,
all the battles, and the fish you caught,
mean nothing much, it was not fish you sought.

Peace, contentment, and a happy life,
free of troubles, sickness, and all other strife,
fishing may indeed these earthly woes transcend,
as angler makes his way around another river bend.

`Tis sad that one may not just simply fish one´s life away,
ignoring all the cares and problems, always bright and gay,
but life intrudes most rudely, and forces one´s attention,
sometimes overpowering, defying comprehension.

Dreams are scattered then, borne away on evil winds,
as humdrum life the once great hope and joy rescinds,
ambition dies, one sinks in mournful contemplation,
of how things were, of each and every revelation.

Knowledge gained, seems worthless on reflection,
one is enchained for hours and days by useless circumspection.
a rod, a box of flies, once source of magical enjoyment,
now sit ignored, unused, no point in their deployment.

"Hope springs eternal", or so ´tis often lightly said,
even when the wings of spirit, have feet of lead.
I will yet take my rod and flies to some bright stream again,
I know I will, all I do not know, is when?

TL
MC


You need someone to share the water with. That may even extend to
guidance but only informally. I find having someone rely on me
for their outing is very motivating.

Just a thought ...

Steve (who has known similar, albeit short, periods of quietude)