The Luddite

I have historically been inflicted with gear acquisition syndrome, otherwise known as GAS. New gadgets pushed to the market every year, all promising new bells and whistles that guarantee enhanced competency and success in chosen pursuits. The proverbial dog chasing its tale, exhausted by the pursuit, yet stationary in progress. The new camera - costing more than a decent used car – will ensure that I produce National Geographic worthy pictures. The new guitar with a staggering price tag promising my fingers will float across the fretboard, worthy of an audience oohing and aahing. That beautiful handmade, bamboo fly road that promises I will drop a #20 dry fly on the nose of a feeding native brook trout. Even the curmudgeon Lefty Kreh would applaud from the edge of the mountain stream.

I am a guy, and dudes are particularly susceptible to GAS. I make no apologies for the fact that I like shiny new objects. I love technology and what it offers in self-expression, freedom, and aesthetic quality. The problem emerges when we embrace technology as the elixir for accomplishment. How many magical photographs were produced with non-digital, film cameras and no post-production software? Sir Don McCullin didn’t have the Sony mirrorless, full frame camera pushed through Adobe Creative Cloud when taking those gut-wrenching photos from the wars he covered as a photojournalist. Robert Johnson was a catalyst behind America’s blues music genre, using a guitar that most of us would allow our children to play with. I’m sure that Charles F. Orvis began his fly-fishing journey using a rod, reel, and fly line that could not hold a candle to what his store offers today. All accomplished in their pursuits without the aid of contemporary technology. Most of us could only dream of achieving their levels of excellence, regardless of how much money we spend in chasing new technology.

The funny thing about technology is that the chase never ends. At some point, we must stop and appreciated the simplicity and accessibility of the tools of trade that are more than capable of enabling our growth and achievement. Not only are these tools accessible for most, their simplicity provides a tactile experience that reverberates from your extremities to the soul.

Now, it’s not my right to criticize those who are romanced by shinny new objects. I only suggest that our constant pursuit of new gear not distract us from what matters most, a dedicated and focused effort to build skills that our forefathers achieved with far less than we are afforded. An accomplished life without aperture and shutter priority is possible. It just demands hard work, an eye for composition, and an appreciation for light. That sounds like an appropriate metaphor for a life well lived.