Biking it out

I’ve procured a bicycle. It’s a men’s frame so my usual Dutch dismount has been compromised and its not a mountain or off road bike, so unpaved roads have proved challenging, but I love to bike. It’s so freeing you know?

I’m not a cyclist. I will not appear as a neon advertisement for some company that isn’t paying me anything as I huff and puff up a hill on my weekends. Why do people do this by the way? When I noticed that people were wearing this unbecoming costume, I assumed (I think reasonably) that they were competing for a major competition (The Tour de France for instance) imminently. Are they all part of clubs? Do they know Lance Armstrong (before the disgrace)? I’m not sure. But as a person who will gladly purchase an outfit to participate in a sport, (I purchased the cutest pink tennis skirt and top for lessons the other day) I find this particular ensemble unflattering, that is, unless one is tall really thin and generally flat all over (which I am not).

But I digress. I wore my usual leggings and shirt and went free wheeling out of Eden Valley, and took to the road. The day was clear, and quiet. Nothing was passing and the only sound was the wind and the huff and puff of my own breath as I peddled up the rises in the road.

I like these moments (many) while I’m here at Eden Valley. Silence, fresh air, sunshine, the click-clack of the adjusting gears and steady whir of the bike chain spinning at a steady pace. There is a beautiful sense of nothing — so I can ask the questions. You know, THE questions. I am in no great rush. I’m not trying to conquer anything. I’m just peddling melodically along and the breeze blows.

I stop often.

I stopped to observe a bucolic scene. There are cows clustered under a tree . As I dismount, some swivel their massive heads wearily to look at me. I smile at them. Because… why not. They are just laying there. I remount my bike and carry on. This is the rhythm of my bike ride. Up the hill I stand on the peddles and propel myself up the hill. I stop and look at the next thing that interests me then move on watching about and enjoying the breeze.

It’s not about the sweat I’m working up (because it is hot and I am sweating) but just the peace of my journey. I can hear myself without the “Shoulds”.

My counselor once told me that the “should’s” of life can drown me and they weren’t mine to begin with. The “should’s” belong to others. Think about that. How many times have you said that:

“I should (fill in the blank).”

Who set that should? I mean outside of work, or caring for defenseless children or paying your taxes. Who set the “should’s”? I am carrying a lot of should’s (mostly well meaning but burdensome) that sort of crowded me out of my own life. I couldn’t hear my self anymore. Do you ever feel like that sometimes?

I’m not a blinking, blank, unthinking person. At least I try my best not to be. Going with the program makes me chafe. Feeling hemmed in, I find a way to do my own thing, but sometimes the “should’s” start to make sense and for me at least I get to this point where I feel like screaming. The feeling makes me think of a line from David Wyte’s poem, The Winter of Listening. “Inside everyone is a great shout of joy waiting to be born.“

I’m listening asking the big questions, knowing I know the answers. I just need some quiet. Not because I’m hard of hearing, but because for me, throwing away the “should’s” means summoning courage to act on what I know is true for me.

in this cold night

of wind and stars

the first whispered

opening of

those hidden

and invisible springs

that uncoil

in the still summer air

each yet

to be imagined

rose.