The Rainbow Leech

I’ve been doing some thinking and creating lately - for therapeutic reasons.  My latest fly I call the “Rainbow Leech”.  I made it because it represents my life in a way.  The leech pattern is one of my favorite patterns to fish with because it catches fish almost every time and it’s a lot of fun.  I tie it because it’s fairly simple and easy to tie.  In this case, the colors all represent something to me. 

The rainbow material is called crystal flash.  I tied this in to represent my wife.  Crystal flash is a material that is the most rigid of all the materials I select.  It is the strongest of these materials because it has a twist to it, and that twist gives it its strength.  I liken this to my wife.  She has been though a lot in her life, and it has given her strength.  It’s multicolored and beautiful, just like she is.  Depending on the angle you look at, you will see different aspects of its colors and characteristics.  All of my wife is represented here, and I love every aspect she has which make her a unique and beautiful individual.

The pearly looking material is called pearl flashabou.  Flashabou represents my children.  On first look, it’s just ordinary material, but when light shines you can see how it reflects and catches your attention.  When picking this particular material in a fly, it really reflects light a long way in the water and that’s what gets the fish to come check it out.  My children are unique and beautiful, and the light they reflect back at me brings me so much joy and happiness that I cannot fully express in words.  You must stop and examine this material to enjoy the special beauty it brings to this fly.  Just like my children, if I do not stop and examine what they bring in my life, I will miss out on so much joy and richness.

The red is just regular old tinsel.  I see in this one the pain that is in my life.  I chose to use this only once in the fly, and I put it right at the head.  Right now, the red definitely does not represent everything that goes into my life and makes me who I am.  However, it is up front and always on my mind.  It is mixed in with everything that makes up the rest of my life.  It will never go away and is always visible, even if it’s hard to pick out.

Finally, the last part you cannot see unless you turn over the fly.  It is a very thin white thread.  The white thread, to me, is love.  It that binds the whole fly together.  If you try to remove the thread, the whole thing will fall apart.  It would no longer be the Rainbow Leech.  It would just be a pile of flashy material.  The thread runs through every piece of the tying process; it would be impossible to separate one piece from the other.  I love my family.  And while love can be fragile, when combined it wraps around every aspect of my life and it pulls the whole thing together into something marvelous and wonderful.  It is this simple thread that keeps me going through all the pain - and all the joy.

The Bison Winter

I haven’t written in a while, been putting it off for the very reason I’m writing this post.  It’s the most serious thing I’ve written so far.  It certainly hasn’t come easy to bring my thoughts to words.  It’s even more difficult to live through what I’m writing about.  It’s one of those things that I never understood until I came to live it myself and I find myself saying, “Ok, I get it now.  I get how somebody else has come here too.”  It’s a complicated thing to explain, so I’ll use a comparison.

Bison live in the Yellowstone National Forest full time.  They don’t migrate.  These are some tough creatures that endure one of the harshest winter climates in North America.  They don’t hibernate, so they need to eat year round.  Their massive bodies need the grass that gets covered in feet upon feet of snow.  The struggle they endure just to survive winter is what makes them such strong creatures.  There is, however, a unique feature in Yellowstone: it is very geothermally active.  There are areas where the ground is so warm that snow cannot gather very strongly.  In these areas is plenty of water to drink and grass is so much easier to access because of the lack of deep snow.  There is a group of bison that has chosen to live in these geothermic areas.  They don’t have to work nearly as hard as the rest of the bison to graze on the grass in the area.  They also don’t have to endure nearly as harsh cold either because of the heat in the area.  It would seem they found the perfect place to winter in such a bitterly cold environment.  There is a huge trade off, however.  These areas have extremely high concentrations of two things that exact a price for this ease.  First, silica is everywhere in the grass and waters.  When the bison eat, they are essentially eating glass powder that, throughout their life, destroys their teeth.  Bison in these areas lose their teeth far earlier in their lives than the other bison that live in the park. 

The second thing is fluoride.  Fluoride, we all know, makes our teeth stronger.  It’s in our toothpaste and helps promote a healthy smile right?  It is true that, in very small doses, fluoride is very good for dental health.  However, in the concentrations that these animals ingest, it is disastrous.  In such large concentrations it reduces bone density and damages joints.  On average, a Yellowstone Bison lives 15 years.  The geothermal bison have 1/3 of their normal lifespan taken away from them because of the environment they grow and thrive in.  It seems that their ease of living has come at a high price for these magnificent animals.

My whole life I was raised in a situation that I’ll liken to the bison.  Everybody knows I grew up in the LDS church.  The church for me was my geothermal pasture.  The church provided me a lot of wonderful things in my life.  I gained a moral compass through the teachings of the LDS church.  It provided me a perspective that I’ll probably never change.  I learned the importance of compassion and charity through the teachings of the church.  I served a mission because I believed in this message so much.  I loved the church to my core, I loved the calm it brought me in my life.  It provided me with a vision of how I should proceed; it was a road map on how I should do things.  Indeed, I dedicated my entire adult life to its teachings and precepts.  I thought I had it all figured out because of the peaceful messages I surrounded myself with.

Like the bison in the geothermal areas, I was slowly eating poison the whole time.  Not enough for me to notice, but the concentrations kept growing and growing inside my soul.  There came a point, very recently, that this poison came to its flash point.  I could no longer ignore the damage I had juggled for years.  I could no longer shove aside the hard questions.  Gone were the comforts of faith, prayer, community, and brotherhood.  I realized I was in the midst of a faith crisis.  I’ve tried for years and years to find answers to my internal questions.  I struggled with these questions so much.  I tried and tried to figure out why things were so broken in my life.  Not once did any of my efforts yield any results.  This faith crisis is one of the most painful experiences I’ve ever had to work though.  At times it has felt that I’ve been forced to watch my best friend die painfully in front of my eyes.  The whole foundation my entire life was built upon suddenly turned to ash and the house collapsed in on itself.

So often I would hear messages about reaching out to people amid their hardships; how it was the duty of a disciple of Christ to share the burdens of others.  I was part of a brotherhood that was supposed to mourn with those who mourn and comfort those who stand in need of comfort.  I waited and waited for these blessings to come to me.  I shouted out and asked for help; I explained how I was sinking and my faith was dying. Never once did I receive the desperately needed lifeline.  I had been ignored and abandoned by church and my God.

After excruciating reflection I came to realize that I could no longer walk the path of a Mormon.  For me there are only hollow answers.  There is no grand equation for me and my life. The progress I’ve made has been through pain, sorrow, depression, and a refusal to give up.  Together with the help of my wife, I have begun to piece together my shattered soul.  I have found that my schoolmasters are pain, burdens, and hardship.

I no longer have a grand eternal blueprint to look at and receive direction.  I no longer feel that I know what will happen in my life.  I will no longer participate with the Mormon Church. I have come to terms with the death of my faith.  What has replaced this giant gaping hole in my soul is the knowledge that I have picked myself up and dug myself out of the rubble of my collapsed faith.  I can continue to suffer though grief and pain and keep living and gaining strength and confidence in my own actions.  I go on, knowing that I am strong enough and worth all the effort.  I have found myself and will continue being the best man, father, and husband - no matter the cost.