Omnihilism
Something that has been on my mind lately is my concept of “Everynothing”. This concept touches various aspects of my
life, from work through fishing, and I’m struggling with my position with
respect to Omnihilism. I hate it; I
respect it. I don’t know if I’m a
devotee to this concept; or a warrior against it.
One beautiful morning this May, I launched Numenon in Muskegon. I was by myself, and weather conditions had
been a bit unsettled; I didn’t really know what conditions to expect. I had 21 rods rigged and ready, with others
in reserve, and I had lofty goals for the day. I was going to do it all. Specifically, after securing a legal DNR limit
of Great Lakes trout and salmon, I’d continue fishing for early season catch
and release bass, with the goal of momentarily capturing an emulated DNR
“limit” of bass. Five hard-fighting
silver fish, and five bass over 14 inches, all in the same day, with one launch
of the boat. What could be better? What could be a grander celebration of Spring
and the various opportunities she affords us here in Michigan?
The fishing got off to a splendid start, and I quickly
caught and released my first salmon of the day.
(Because most spring salmon are eminently releasable, and because of my
need for space for gear, and for a clear front deck while bass fishing later,
there was no cooler. I planned to
release all Great Lakes fish this day, unless they were badly damaged during
the fight. To minimize damage to the fish and to save some
more space, I also chose not to net any fish this day.) Decent fishing continued, and when I was 1 for 3 by 8 AM, having lost a couple of dandy fish (no netting today!), I was still pretty confident in my chances for securing my Great Lakes
limit for the day in a timely fashion. But
no net means more lost fish, and when I experienced a case of rubber hooks,
compounded by a rare broken split ring on perhaps the largest Great Lakes fish
of the year; at 10:30 AM or so I was starting to feel the pressure of my goals.
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| Deep Water, Blue Dolphin, Bright Fish |
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| Broken split rings just don't happen on my boat! |
At Noon, I pulled the plug, having gone “4-for-8”, one fish
short of my goal but still pleased with my effort. I’d had my chances, after all, and I was
looking forward to some easy pre-spawn, shallow water bassin.’ By 12:30 PM, I was in place, and my chosen
spot was loaded with the biggest congregation of visible, pre-spawn largemouth
bass that I’ve ever encountered on Muskegon Lake. But after an hour or more I realized that I
could NOT get them to bite, and with a quick relocation and set of experimental
casts, I realized I’d be better off (and more productive) by blind-casting likely
areas. So with two legal-sized largemouths in
20 minutes, I was once again feeling confident that I’d reach one of my goals
for the day. But then Mother Nature
intervened and she started blowing; I pretty much lost my ability to control
the boat or my baits where I knew there were fish; and an hour later, I knew it
wasn’t meant to be, not this day.
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| Smallish keeper largemouth |
So I came off the water, having achieved neither of my
goals. In fact, I didn’t even have any
food fish, since I’d chosen to not bring the cooler. In a sense, I’d achieved nothing, and had nothing
to show for my intensive efforts. And
yet, I think if I adopt this way of thinking, I’m a victim of Omnihilism. For surely there’s something to be had from
these ideas, efforts and experiences, and I don’t want to fall into a manner of thinking
where I can’t appreciate the boat, the setting, the opportunity, or the
physical grace and beauty of the fish I’d encountered.
Imagine my surprise while I was ruminating these concepts
when Jon Stewart summarized a portion of the 2012 Presidential Republican
Convention with the simple phrase “Everynothing!” Why not promise everything with nothing
behind the promise?
I’ve been battling “Everynothing” at work for a decade or
more. We all recognize that resources
are scarce, and we’re used to doing more with less. In fact, we’re seemingly doing more, better
and faster, with less. And yet, if we’ve
already done it, why not do it again?
Why not do it even better, faster, with even less? Perhaps we’re achieving what was once thought
to be inconceivable or impossible. And
yet, in our efforts, I can’t help but feel that we’re missing something of
importance. When you’re too busy doing
something to analyze how or why you’re doing it, there’s a reason for pause;
and yet when you’re that busy, you’re not likely to avail yourself to that
opportunity. You might not realize that
your efforts could be misdirected, or that you’re in the position of possibly
accomplishing nothing.
So we keep on going, adapting to circumstances and yet
stressed, bent and disfigured. We might
convince ourselves that we’re thriving and progressing because we’re not
broken. But is bending somehow worse
than breaking? General Robert E. Lee had
a bit of a riding mishap during the 2nd Battle of Bull Run, and Jeff
Shaara reports in “Gods and
Generals” that General Lee broke one hand and sprained the other. General Lee himself wondered aloud how the
pain of the sprain could exceed that of the break. I can report myself that the sprains have
tormented me longer than the broken bones, and they’re the injuries that are
likely to persist and re-occur. But let’s face it; it’s human nature to fix or consciously abandon something
that’s broken; but to patch up, prop up, adapt to or otherwise accommodate
something that still seems to be serviceable. A break gets the attention, the cred. Maybe breaking is a relatively good thing, because it might force the
issue of a rational assessment of the situation and confrontation with the future, instead of just going along
with the tide.
So maybe trying to have it all, to accomodate everybody's interests, or to just plain Live Large has it's drawbacks. And yet I can’t get away from the simple beauty and
intrinsic value of the idea of a quest itself. Surely any Grand Vision associated with any venture guides events to fruition.
Surely one’s better off for having attempted the quest. And the motivational force of the goals of
the quest must have value, and at the least, getting back to the original May
event, I’m better off for having encountered each of the fish of the day. This should probably be more about the process than the stark reality of the results.
But when results seem to mean everything
(such as in our everyday life), does the process mean anything? Can we even allow
ourselves to think this way?
Shith, this essay has kind of become an example of “Everynothing”
itself. A whole bunch of ideas and
effort, but perhaps not much impact.
Regardless, I’ll be back in Muskegon this fall. I can’t help but imagine the day with a limit
or two of vertically jigged morning walleyes, accompanied by a limit or two of
silvery steelies and salmon. I could
probably get by with only 10 rods; I’ll have room for the cooler, maybe even for a buddy with which to share the day!
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| Fall Silver |
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| Muskegon Walleyes |
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