Take it from me when I say this, there will always be a bigger fish.
As cryptic as that sounds, consider ‘The Old Man and The Sea’. By the end of the book, the complete desecration of the huge fish that he brings in seems utterly tragic. And when I read that novel as a young man, I was rather touched by the ending. To this day, my father speaks of the tragedy of the fish with reverence.
But I got thinking this morning, wondering where I was going to travel to next after spending the month of February in Mexico. I kept asking myself, why bother going anywhere else in the world – its all just dirt, plants, water, and people under the sky anyway.
And while I sat there on the toilet, as I imagine Hemingway had when he thought up the start of that iconic novel, I realized that there will always be a bigger fish to pull in.
I just have to go back out to sea, throw in my line, and try again.