How I found a perfect, simple way to deal with the problems of the day

This might prove to be a rather strange column -- although, if you read my column with any regularity whatsoever, then you know that "strange" should be my middle name.

So what is rattling around in my head this week that has me apologizing in advance? Well, it has to do with what so many of us, including myself, are going through: this darn economy and the stress that goes with it.

I know I come off as a Peter Pan of sorts, always talking about fishing and grooving on life with hardly a care in the world. But in reality, I am very much like so many of you right now. Have you noticed that, no matter what the subject might be, when you are talking to a friend, spouse or even someone you have met for the first time, this dismal economy seems to seep into the discussion at some point? I have.

If you thought that this column is what puts the grits on my table, it isn't. My real job is graphic design and advertising and as anyone in business knows, when times get tight, advertising is one of the first things to go. So without going any further with this, my business has dropped dramatically, just like so many of yours have. I seriously cannot think of one single friend who isn't sweating bullets wondering, if not praying, that they make it through this recession. We all know that things will eventually turn around, but "soon" is not soon enough.

So what does this have to do with nature, whether it be fishing, hunting, hiking, kayaking or any of the thousands of other outdoor pursuits? I'll tell you.

It was last Wednesday. I got up, just like I do every day, and stood by the coffeepot watching it -- no, willing it to brew faster so I could have that first sip. My wife, Karen, and I leashed up the dogs (two beagles) and made our regular morning walk down to the river. As we walked the conversation turned to money and the economy -- and for me at least, that is no way to start a day. So when we got back to the house, she dressed for work while I sat at my computer, checked my e-mailsand realized with a start that I didn't have any jobs. None. Not one single thing to do.

I do my best to be an optimist and believe that there is a reason for everything. And for the past 30 or so years, something always seemed to pop up when things got slow. But during this current period we're all going through, the lulls have been a bit more frequent, and the optimism has been harder to come by. I try hard to put things in perspective. I have two great kids, a great wife and always think about those who are less fortunate than myself. But even with these thoughts, I couldn't shake the fear that maybe this time would be different, and work opportunities would take too long heading my way.

All that morning I just couldn't settle down. I made some calls, rattled some bushes and just tried to keep myself busy doing anything that I thought was productive. But no matter what I did, that nagging feeling hung around my neck. By then it was noon and I had to do something -- anything -- to get me back on track mentally.

After snacking on a PB&J, I walked to river again. I'd forgotten that my boat was in the water, but there it was, tied to the dock. I'm not sure what prompted me, but in the space of about five minutes I had jumped aboard and was cruising toward Calibogue Sound. Dolphins were everywhere, slapping their forked tails on the water's surface, no doubt stunning fish for their lunch, and I stopped the boat, turned off the engine and just watched.

For the very first time that day I felt peace. As I looked around me at the golden hue of the autumn marsh grass, the variety of birds and the sky reflecting in the water, a calmness came over me that 20 minutes earlier I would have thought impossible.

The upshot of that trip on that day was that no matter how tough things get, I still have nature to guide me. I guess the greatest revelation I had was that I too am a part of nature. I am not above it. Instead I am just a single cog in the massive wheel that turns our universe. I know now that I will make it but it took nature to open my eyes and show me that there is indeed a reason for everything and most importantly-- life itself.

Collins Doughtie is the outdoors columnist for the Bluffton Packet.