There are some questions that shouldn’t be asked until a person is mature enough to appreciate the answers-
We are made up of many “things,” so are our handy gadgets, fancy cars, spiffy shoes, colorful yoga mats and ridiculously expensive bikes – A bunch of cells and molecules blended craftily together. If there’s a major distinction to be pointed out between us and these cherished inanimate objects, it’s that we tactile beings are blessed with the ability to feel our emotions and to communicate them to others. Or do we?!?
While we have the ability to express our emotions to others, sometimes – most of the time, we don’t always do it when we desperately need to. It’s important to pause and ask why every once in a while. As you may have noticed in my recent posts, I have been asking myself “why” quite a bit of late. I do so because we live in social media/hyper connected world that tells us, don’t feel upset,” or don’t feel sad, don’t worry, and to “Be brave and stand tall” when adversity graces our lives. It’s also important to remember that the world we live in has a double-edge sword, waiting patiently to chop our heads off when our emotions sway the opposite direction, when we boast and brag about a new gadget, personal best and buying a new bike. The net result of all of “this,” is one sad but brutally true underlying message – Stop being and don’t feel anything.
My posts of late have been painfully tedious for one important reason: I’m starting to make a habit of honoring myself and you, each and every day. One last question before we part ways this morning: Before you click “publish, “like” or post anything online … Is there a moment where you think about the ramifications of your action(s), a moment where you stop being and fail to feel anything?!?
You will never be happy if you continue to search for what happiness consists of. You will never live if you are looking for the meaning of life-
While cleaning the garage this past weekend, I came across a handful of Enduro – Mountain Bike race medals and tattered bibs from the nearly 4 years I spent living in the United Kingdom. I was preparing to pitch them in the bin outside when curiosity overcame me, I sat down on the warm west-facing front porch and started to look through them. On these worn and faded relics, I found a record of a life that seemed so impossibly exciting to me that I could hardly believe it had once been mine.
With my Son carelessly riding his bike with some neighborhood mates, I sat there, coffee in hand and reminisced about my life competing in England. When I meet fellow cyclist at a local coffee shop early on a Sunday morning, a recent swap meet or my favourite MTB trail head, they invariably inquire why I don’t compete at the same level now. The “thing” is, during nearly all of my years there, my heart longed to be somewhere else. It seems incredible when I think about it now, watching my Son creating long fluid skid marks in the road, when I’m holding objects such as this Thetford Forest MTB Racing Series podium medal, serves only to remind me of the seemingly rare and blessed glimpse of my days spent there.
I tossed the medals and bibs in the trash bin and placed my stained streaked coffee mug on top, sealing the contents inside. Hooked our now warm and cozy beagle up to his leash, grabbed a sweatshirt from inside the garage door, and proceed to tear up the now quiet neighborhood with my Son.
Only the hand that erases can write the true thing-
Do you want to “train” with a riding partner who is hesitant to think that things will work themselves out fine and dandy further down the road? Or do you want to practice next to a Pollyannaish yoga princess who never, ever – never ever thinks that anything could go wrong during yoga class – Until it does, chipped nail polish and all? Have you noticed of late this “spiritual presence” wafting in the air, pressure of having to be positive, jovial, and enthusiastic every stinking moment of the day?!? Even my Son asked me the other morning if I was feeling excited about rebuilding a Cannondale Headshok that exploded on me recently. “What was that little dude?” I said, “You must be kidding.” He paused, looked into my furrowed eyes and simply laughed. He knew he was trying to manipulate me into feeling “something” I was not at the moment, or he wanted to watch Star Wars Rebels?!?. Anyways, he could not help himself. He just had to give this leaky, broken down fork, a fork that was going to bother me for the rest of the mountain bike racing season, a positive spin.
What’s lost in our “spiritual presence” conquest, constantly needing to be coaxed and persuaded into balance - Is perspective. What is truly lost, is the idea to question the way we experience ourselves and others before we even acknowledge these negative thought(s) or event(s). True spiritual practice kindly offers us perspective. Once we tap into who we truly are, we look at the particular, nuanced daily experiences with wisdom and a gentle heart. We don’t have to take “life” so seriously anymore. Just looking at our inner thoughts and feelings from the perspective of – Being - causes us to find peace and smile. A deeply rooted spiritual practice allows us to observe, allowing the wonders of life to unfold before our very eyes – naturally.
Kids and broken bike parts are wonderful when it comes to offering a new perspective on this “thing” called life.
Over the back of the Florida basker,
over the froth of the Firth of Forth,
Up from Tahiti and Madagascar,
Lo, the sun walks north.
The first bright day makes sing the slackers
While leaves explode like firecrackers,
The duck flies forth to greet the spring
And sweetly municipal pigeons sing.
Where the duck quacks, where the bird sings,
We will speak of past things.
Come out with your marbles, come out with your Croup,
The grass is as green as a Girl Scout troop;
In the Mall the stone acoustics stand
Like a listening ear for the Goldman band.
At an outside table, where the sun’s bright glare is,
We will speak of darkened Paris.
Meanwhile, like attendants who hasten the hoofs
Of the ponies who trot in the shadow of roofs,
The sun, in his running, will hasten the plan
Of plants and fishes, beast and man.
We’ll turn our eyes to the sogging ground
And guess if the earth is cracked or round.
Over the plans of the parties at strife,
Over the planes in the waiting north,
Over the average man and his wife,
Lo, the sun walks forth!
– Robert Lax
The miracle is this – the more we share, the more we have-
Rest in peace my friend.