The Mystery Underwater

The mystery of what happens under the water in this scene stirs me. Engaged in a practice some 1300 years old, the fishermen on bamboo rafts use lanterns suspended over the water to attract the fish. The cormorants perched on the rafts or poised on their outstretched arms wear tethers and dive underwater on their command. The work of one good cormorant during a day of fishing can feed an entire family.

The contrast of the water’s smooth surface and the activity that will be largely unseen are intriguing. This causes me to think about our preference for things we can see clearly. There is fear of the universe that is less seen. We fear the unknown of death and dying, of course, but also, the lesser fears that rise from dreams, or from situations with uncertain outcomes and relationships that are similarly elusive.

Counter to the energy-draining realm of anxiety and worry, there is the marvelous possibility of allowing something to unroll. Surrendering to the moment is always an option. Instead of fighting tiny battles, we can chose to become receptive. This does not mean we must choose passivity. Active participation in the flow of a moment or situation often reveals grace to be a more powerful agent of evolution than is resistance.

Importantly, patience is required in such a mindset, as it is in photography and the act of fishing. Here, we have two skiffs, two fishermen waiting for the fish and for their cormorants to determine the next moment, to determine dinner for their families. There is peace in their process as there is in mine. I am waiting for the mysteries of making an image: How will the fog fall? When will the cormorant plunge into the water? Will I be alert to the moment when the magic to reveals itself? That is the rhythm of photography and fishing: patience, sudden activity, more patience, more activity, and throughout it all, there is flow.