I recently came across an article I had written a couple years ago but never published anywhere, and, thinking that readers of this blog might enjoy it, decided to include it here.

             We were fishing near the Northwest Channel, just outside the boundaries of the Dry Tortugas.  As we bobbed around on the mild chop, the Woodward’s Dreambuilder yacht nicely handling the waves, we not only encountered new fishing stories, but we also heard some old ones as well.

            Shark fishing is what we were supposed to be doing.  Only the sharks didn’t seem to know that.  So instead we caught Yellow Tail Snapper, Mangrove Snapper, Blue Runners, and a bunch of other fish that ended up getting immediately re-hooked and sent squirming to the bottom as bait for sharks.  At one point (apparently thinking he was a shark) a thirty pound Black Grouper hooked himself on Tim Marks’s line and found his way into our cooler.  Later, with much effort by Orrin, a fifty pound Goliath Grouper (also playing the part of a shark) made his way to the transom platform of our boat.  Only the Goliath Grouper didn’t know that it was illegal for him to bite our line, so we had to let him go with a warning.  What happened next was a fish story and a half.  Tim’s rod bent violently downward and one of the best fights of the day was on.  The rod tip dipped and swerved from side to side with Tim expertly maneuvering in counter-attack to keep the feisty fish on the line.  It swam under the boat and tried to get the line hooked on the props.  Then it darted from one side of the boat to the other.  Next it dove straight down, then came jiggling back up.  Finally Tim’s superior angling brought the mighty opponent exhausted to the surface.  Gaffed and dragged aboard, we were quickly informed by “Captain Bill” that the worthy opponent was a Horse Eye Jack.  “About thirty pounds,” he said.  We nodded.  In seconds, Tim chopped the Jack into sections and used it to bait his shark rigs for another try at the elusive species.  After a few moments, I wandered inside the Dreambuilder’s living room (isn’t it cool when a boat has a “living room”?) and retrieved the Florida fish guide book we’d brought along.  Curious, I looked up the Horse Eye Jack.  There on the page was a magnificent picture of a fish exactly like the one Tim had just caught.  Exactly like it, except it was smaller and the size was different.  Then I noticed it.  The part about the world-record size Horse Eye Jack ever caught, that is: a mere twenty four pounds, eight ounces!

            At first Tim was all right with it.  After all, he was at that moment hoping for a shark to bite his chopped up trophy fish. It was not too late to save face.  But as the night wore on, and the trophy fish parts became soggy, stringy trophy fish parts, and the sharks continued to stay away from our boat by the thousands, Tim’s smirk changed slightly.  We had gotten so focused on catching sharks we missed a world-record fish!

            I immediately saw a lesson in our little caper.  We were out there on that ocean to catch sharks, sure enough.  But we were also out there to catch fish, have fun, enjoy each other’s company, and yes, generate some fish stories.  It was probably every bit as exciting catching that Horse Eye Jack as it would have been to catch a shark (maybe), but we were focused beyond the Jack, and we missed a unique piece of scenery along the way (but we did get a good story).  We should never lose site of the blessings we get along the way.  Sure we want to achieve greatness, sure we want to get our goals and dreams, but we should never be so focused that we lose site of the many blessings life delivers along the way, on the journey.  

            So much for the new fish story: now on to the old one.  “Captain Bill” had many to tell, but the best was about a ship wreck somewhere in our vicinity that day.  Apparently the wreck is a favorite among scuba divers (so we’ll be sure to double back and do that soon).  Apparently, a large Goliath Grouper, of the variety that Orrin caught, swam into the old wheelhouse of the sunken ship.  It was very cozy in there, and a good supply of small reef fish swam through it on a regular basis, providing a constant and easy source of food.  Also, the Goliath Grouper was relatively safe from predators in his little wheelhouse.  But gradually, he grew in size, as Goliaths do.  And he grew, and he grew, and he grew (sounds like a children’s story, doesn’t it)?  You see, Goliath Grouper can get up to over eight hundred pounds, and apparently this one did.  In fact, he grew so big in his little habitat, that he got too big to get out.  So for the rest of his days he is sentenced to swim in little circles around an old sunken wheelhouse wondering why so many scuba divers come to look at him!

            Again, the lesson for us is a compelling one (I guess I never thought about what value fish stories can have in our lives.  I think I’ll pay more attention to them in the future)!  That Grouper became imprisoned by his desire for comfort.  Born into the beautiful, vast ocean, he was free to swim and eat where he pleased.  But comfort and complacency lured him into an easy existence that at first didn’t appear dangerous.  I’m sure in the early days he swam out whenever he wanted.  Then, gradually, he began scraping his scales off getting into and out of the wheelhouse.  Finally, it was just too late.  His lifestyle had imprisoned him.  How often do we see that happening in people’s lives?  At first, our cubicles are merely comfortable, safe places to earn a living.  But then, slight increases in salary and status begin the imprisonment until it is too late.  Dreams and goals become regrets and missed opportunities.  We switch from living in the vast ocean of possibility thinking and become trapped in the wheelhouse of “If only I’d have.”  It’s no longer “what I’m going to do,” it’s “what I wish I’d done.”  We surrender what we want in the future for what we can have in the moment.  We give up the long-term GREAT to get the short-term GOOD. 

            Don’t get me wrong.  I’m not saying anything derogatory about anyone’s position or career in life.  I’m talking about individual choices and decisions.  What may make one fish happy may not make another happy.  Perhaps that Grouper in the wheelhouse is just as satisfied and content as he can be.  Maybe all the other Grouper are envious of his easy existence.  But I think somewhere in the very back of his little Grouper brain, that big fish wishes he could swim free, out among the depths and currents with other free fish. 

            I for one will choose to stay out of the wheelhouses of comfort.  I prefer to take my chances among the predators and currents of the open sea. 

            And I hope you do too.