CCJC Audio Podcast Episode 00078, Season 2
“The waters don’t judge, they just flow.” – Jerilee Wei
During our “Gone Fishing” vacation the staff at Cajun Chronicles Podcast staff reviewed a lot of old podcasts in our vault of memories. One of them during a lively discussion in our challenge to answer one question to our listeners:
“How does the natural world facilitate healing from profound personal trauma and life disruptions for you?”
This in one of the more interesting story and a picture of a cat from a listener who simply signed it Elaine P (no address just dropped in our lobby inbox):
Elaine was, by all accounts, a vision. Her blonde hair cascaded like a sun-drenched waterfall, her green eyes sparkled like freshly polished emeralds, and her smile could disarm a grumpy tax auditor. What her dazzling exterior didn't reveal, however, was the Category 5 hurricane raging within.
She had recently escaped a suffocating, long term abusive relationship that had left her trust shattered and her spirit weary. On top of that, her dream job had evaporated faster than a puddle in the Sahara, her artisanal sourdough starter had tragically met its moldy demise.
Even her cat, Callie, had started giving her judgmental side-eyes. Elaine was, in short, a hot beautiful mess, trying desperately to reclaim herself from the wreckage. Starting over again, this time determined to heal from the traumas of life.
Her therapist, Dr. Larkin, a woman whose patience rivaled that of a seasoned sloth, had suggested "Finding a centering activity." Elaine had tried yoga, too much downward dog, not enough upward mobility. Meditation wasn’t her either considering her mind was a squirrel on espresso.
Competitive napping was surprisingly stressful and left her wide awake at night. Nothing stuck. The constant hum of anxiety from her past relationship and drama made it impossible to truly settle. Elaine was feeling desperate.
Then Mia, an older neighbor who believed that all of life's problems could be solved with a strong cup of Earl Grey and a good fishing rod. "Darling," she'd chirped over the phone, "You need to commune with nature! Feel the tug of the line! It's primal!"
Elaine, feeling forlorn, found herself staring at a murky river, a flimsy rod clutched in her manicured hand, and a bucket of suspiciously wriggly worms at her feet. "This is it," she muttered to the worms, "My rock bottom. Trading spreadsheets for icky squirmy things." The thought of being alone with her thoughts, even by a peaceful water, still brought a tremor of fear.
Her first few attempts were, to put it mildly, catastrophic. She hooked her own hair, twice. Tangled her line around a bewildered duck, and nearly capsized a passing canoe with an over enthusiastic back-cast.
The river, it seemed, was less interested in her "Primal Communion" and more interested in her providing free entertainment. Each failure felt like another echo of her past, another instance where things just quite didn't work out.
Still, she was no quitter. Days turned into weeks. Elaine, stubbornly refusing to be defeated by a body of water and its finned inhabitants, kept at it. She learned to untangle knots with surprising dexterity, to cast with a semblance of grace, and to sit in silence, listening to the gentle gurgle of the river instead of the frantic chatter of her own mind.
The worms, she realized, weren't so bad once you got past the initial squirm. They were, in fact, quite industrious. Slowly, the river's rhythm began to soothe the jagged edges of her recent past.
Then, one crisp morning, it happened. A subtle tug. Not the snag-on-a-rock tug, or the duck-mistook-my-lure-for-a-snack tug, but a real tug. Her heart hammered. She reeled, slowly, deliberately, remembering Mia's cryptic advice about “Feeling the fish." The line pulled taut, the rod bent, and with a final, triumphant heave, a glistening trout flopped onto the bank.
Elaine stared at it, then at the rod, then back at the fish. A slow, incredulous grin spread across her face. She carefully unhooked it, marveling at its iridescent scales before gently releasing it back into the water.
"Yep," she whispered to the receding ripples, a genuine, unburdened laugh bubbling up from deep within her, "I outsmarted a fish. Dr. Larkin would be so impressed!"
From that day on, the waters became her sanctuaries. It wasn't just about catching fish; it was about the quiet focus, the patient waiting, the thrill of the chase, and the satisfaction of a challenge met. The waters didn't demand anything from her, didn't judge, didn't manipulate. They simply flowed, offering a space for her to be.
She started applying the same principles to her life. Job applications became less about frantic desperation and more about strategic casting. Rejections were like missed bites, disappointing, but not the end of the world. She learned to wait for the right opportunity, to observe the currents, and to trust her instincts, rebuilding her self-confidence one careful cast at a time.
Elaine still had her moments of stress, but now, she knew where to go to reset. She found a new job, one that truly fit her, and even considered starting a successful online community for "Accidental Anglers Anonymous." Callie, the cat, still gave her side-eyes, but now they seemed less judgmental and more intrigued.
Fishing, Elaine realized, was like life. Sometimes the waters are calm, sometimes they're turbulent. You cast your line, you wait, you learn to read the signs, and sometimes, more and more often, you hook something truly magnificent. And even if you don't, the simple act of being present, of patiently waiting for your moment, is a reward in itself.
The biggest catch isn't always what you pull out of the water, but what you discover within yourself while you're waiting – the strength to heal, the courage to trust again, and the quiet joy of reclaiming your own stream.
A Word of Wisdom:
As you read, remember history and real life is a complex mix of joy, sorrow, triumph, and tragedy. While we may have (or not) added a bit of fiction, the core message remains, the human spirit's power to endure, adapt, and overcome.
© Jerilee Wei 2025 All Rights Reserved.
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