It’s so late I could cut my lights
and drive the next fifty miles
of empty interstate
flying along in a dream,
countryside alive with shapes and shadows,
but exit ramps lined
with eighteen wheelers
and truckers sleeping in their cabs
make me consider pulling into a rest stop
and closing my eyes. I’ve done it before,
parking next to a family sleeping in a Chevy,
mom and dad up front, three kids in the back,
the windows slightly misted by the sleepers’ breath.
But instead of resting, I’d smoke a cigarette,
play the radio low, and keep watch over
the wayfarers in the car next to me,
a strange paternal concern
and compassion for their well being
rising up inside me.
This was before
I had children of my own,
and had felt the sharp edge of love
and anxiety whenever I tiptoed
into darkened rooms of sleep
to study the small, peaceful faces
of my beloved darlings. Now,
the fatherly feelings are so strong
the snoring truckers are lucky
I’m not standing on the running board,
tapping on the window,
asking, Is everything okay?
But it is. Everything’s fine.
The trucks are all together, sleeping
on the gravel shoulders of exit ramps,
and the crowded rest stop I’m driving by
is a perfect oasis in the moonlight.
The way I see it, I’ve got a second wind
and on the radio an all-night country station.
Nothing for me to do on this road
but drive and give thanks:
I’ll be home by dawn.
ought to be swum
without knowing it,
afternoon lost to
re-finding the rock
you can stand on
way out past the
raft, the flat one
that lines up four-
square with the door
of the boathouse.
Freestyle and back-
stroke and hours on
the dock nattering
on while the low sun
keeps setting fin-
gers and toes getting
number and number …
how could we know
we were swimming the
last swim of summer?
O never say that I was false of heart,
Though absence seemed my flame to qualify.
As easy might I from myself depart,
As from my soul, which in thy breast doth lie.
That is my home of love; if I have ranged
Like him that travels I return again,
Just to the time, not with the time exchanged,
So that myself bring water for my stain.
Never believe, though in my nature reigned
All frailties that besiege all kinds of blood,
That it could so preposterously be stained
To leave for nothing all thy sum of good—
For nothing this wide universe I call,
Save thou, my rose; in it thou art my all.
As I listened from a beach-chair in the shade
To all the noises that my garden made,
It seemed to me only proper that words
Should be withheld from vegetables and birds
A robin with no Christian name ran through
The Robin-Anthem which was all it knew,
And rustling flowers for some third party waited
To say which pairs, if any, should get mated.
Not one of them was capable of lying,
There was not one which knew that it was dying
Or could have with a rhythm or a rhyme
Assumed responsibility for time.
Let them leave language to their lonely betters
Who count some days and long for certain letters;
We, too, make noises when we laugh or weep:
Words are for those with promises to keep.
Your clear eye is the one absolutely beautiful thing.
I want to fill it with color and ducks,
The zoo of the new
Whose names you meditate —
April snowdrop, Indian pipe,
Stalk without wrinkle,
Pool in which images
Should be grand and classical
Not this troublous
Wringing of hands, this dark
Ceiling without a star.
Live with intention. Walk to the edge. Listen Hard. Practice wellness. Play with abandon. Laugh. Choose with no regret. Appreciate your friends. Continue to learn. Do what you love. Live as if this is all there is-
What is the one word that is often most overused and the least understood practicing yoga – anything? Intention.
Setting an intention is a mentality that demands, demands that we live in a way that prompts an “As if…” approach to living. Rather than the convenient “What if…” approach to living.
Being mindful, centers on being in the moment, putting aside attachments to past Read the rest of this entry »
“Single” means you are brave enough to face the glorious unknown of the unaccompanied journey-
Time to pump the brakes on the whole mindfulness – meditation talk of late. Let us focus our attention on cyclocross racing and placing harmful “labels” on people instead!
I have developed over the years a love for lumping “things” into categories. Abstainers and Moderators, Yoga Moms and Yogi(s), Marathoner Runners and 5K Free Spirits, People who shop at Lululemon and Discount Rack Fashionistas, Road Bike Weight Weenies and Cyclocross Folks. I have more to share if you like and I’m positive you do as well!?!
A fleeting conversation (with a close friend) recently during a morning group ride, Inspired me to take notice of a few random thoughts of my own:
One person remarked, “I enjoy a simple life” another friend responded,“I enjoy a life lived to the fullest” Pedaling along I thought to myself that these were the most interesting pair of remarks that I’d ever heard from lycra clad road warriors.
Further down the trail, this seemingly simple conversation got me thinking (which is extremely dangerous): Is there a distinction to be drawn between these two harmless remarks?
Does one group – Let’s “label” them: Simplicity Lovers (Singlespeed – Steel is real – Ride to the event folks)–prefer to have less, care less about costs, bling, latest and fastest, weight, carry no spare supplies – except a bottle opener? Does this go with a love of Calm and Stillness?
And does the other group–I’ll call them: Abundance Lovers (Carbon – Weight Weenies who show up to a grass-roots cyclosross race with a $4500 steed and race cat5 …)–prefer to have more and more, desire fullness, overflow with confidence, have 14 bikes hanging in the garage, ample supplies in the back of their Subaru to outfit a pro team of riders? Does this go with a love of Lust and Desire?
What do you think of these two categories I have created? If the post so far strikes a chord with you, what group do you identify with?
*After much thought, I placed myself in the simplicity lovers category.*
Quick intermission – Stand up, stretch, wiggle your sparkly toes, grab a drink, smile! I don’t often share bloated and tedious posts, so consider yourself lucky this fine fall morning …
Why do we need to categorize and label people? Have you ever stopped to consider the harm caused by assigning names to certain people, groups, or dare I say – Religions? The label we place, puts the person in a box. No matter what they do or say, they can’t get out of that box. The labels we place, defines them.
How many of us actually like to be “labeled”? I certainly tire of being called a simple-minded, blonde haired dude, free spirit – it gets old really quick
The problem I want to address. once again, arises when we are unaware of the labels we often apply, like during a bike ride, start of a local 5k, chatting with a friend over lunch. We fail to stop and realize the damage we are doing by placing “labels” on others. Once a person is labeled, it’s very hard for them to move away …
I – You – We, passionately know there are vast differences between each and every one of us – just the way in which I write is but one example. I implore you this morning to reflect on the boxes you have ready to place on people today: Whether their choice of yoga pants, the bike they ride, you see two dudes holding hands and sharing an embrace – you get my point, I hope!
Instead of putting people into their respective boxes, I challenge you to deliberately refrain from placing your go to label. Open that damn “thing” between your ears, you – scruffy looking nerf herder!!!
This weekend in Omaha is what is affectionately known as “Omaha CX Weekend“. Omaha CX Weekend is a wonderful time to wade into the waters of cyclocross racing, and I use racing loosely – If ringing cow bells, wading through mud, eating brats seconds before a race and drinking beer to refuel sounds like a race to you? Come on out and I will personally pay your registration fee!
For a more in-depth description of the lunatics who ride SINGLE CROSS <—Click here