“Within this moment, the only moment that exists, the past, present and future are contained.“The Buddha
I have been busting to tell this story since last Sunday. I would never think to serialize my writing by weaving one story into the next. I am not optimistic enough to think anyone would give a shit. However, my last one about wrestling with demons and the intensity of the struggle, left itself wide open for a sequel and who better to tell the tale.
I swear I was in a pretty deep hole and it is difficult to just shake off and move on. It can linger, before it lets you be. I wasn’t that far along in the climb out when I was struck with an incredibly simple idea. I started thinking to myself if I have ever heard it before and I didn’t think so. It actually gets me nervous, because I think it has merit, especially these days. I got a couple of companion pieces to get us there first.
In the midst of thinking about how challenging it is for all of us to deal with this life, I conjured a desert bloom. I have no idea how it got in my head or why. In ’87, I moved from NYC to Santa Fe, NM. I hiked my ass off and camped quite a bit. Year after year, you get accustomed to the face of the high desert country. It is kind of stern, but proud and magnificent.
On any given day in late spring, when the sun is finally warming the desert canvas, a blast of moisture will explode through its thin skin, bringing to life battalions of speechless, floral beauty. I recall having this experience only once and it has never left me. It started me thinking that it’s not about the number of experiences we have. It is only about the intensity of each and what we do with them. Work with me here, I got a theory in the works.
What really set my ass on fire was my motorcycle ride last Sunday, 7/2. Sometimes, I look at my logo and the whole biker thing and think I am full of shit. Sure, it’s cool, I used a brain for the motor. The reason for that is simple. I don’t have the talent to find the words to describe what a ride feels like for each of my brothers and sisters. It lives deep within each and I am certain of it. Almost no one talks about it, because there isn’t really a vocabulary of this earth that works. So, we smile knowingly at each other, but there really are no words.
I can’t even count the number of times I’ve had moments only a biker can know. I needed a solid ride last Sunday for a lot of reasons. Prior to leaving for NJ, I was feeling very uncomfortable on my bike and that is just not why I ride. While I was away, a buddy replaced a seriously bald front tire and some worn bearing. It was my first full ride and right away I felt the difference.
What I am about to tell you, only an idiot would share, someone who has given up on trying to look good. The added specialness of the ride had to do with my finally finding something I could wear over my hair, without it fucken blowing away. I know it sounds ridiculous, but I’d spend half my time on the bike, with one hand on whatever I was wearing, because the wind made its intention very clear. I even started thinking about cutting my hair, which would have killed my hair-cutting friend.
While riding with my friends, I realized I was under no pressure to keep up with them, if I didn’t feel like it. I swear to God, after around twenty years of riding with the same group and recently another, I finally realized there was no reason to ruin my ride by feeling I had to keep up with anyone else.
I was so primed for one of those storybook rides that only a rider can possibly know and I had one. I was feeling better than I had in a while. I needed that ride and it helped cement this idea I have had. I also had a laugh at my own expense about the motorcycle as a writing partner. I know for certain, I had a great ride on Sunday and could not have been happier. The motorcycle is a gift that keeps on giving to me.
To me, if you want to know what’s going on with someone, you look for any changes and often they are quite telling. Within the past week, I have begun sitting outside my place. My landlords were very sweet and actually cleaned a plastic chair and small table for me. I just happen to mention to them that I couldn’t believe after all my time here, I never just sat and looked out at the view.
This brings our story to where I want it to take a breath. I thought about my connection to the desert bloom and how certain moments can live forever. A perfect day on a motorcycle would be a miracle anywhere else, but not here. I get to have this motorized magic pretty damn often.
I started sitting in the yard, sometimes with coffee in the morning and other times, later on, wine and a pipe at dusk. Sometimes, I crank up the ear buds and I am completely gone. I don’t have a thought in my head or a distraction in my eye. I am there, in the picture.
What I realized is that as long as you are capable of having those moments, embracing the angel that lives within us all, you can weather any storm. It is why we are here. I spent some extra time in the darkness recently. I know the only way is to always be open to the magic, which comes from within.
I wanted to finish the story in time to go outside and sit on my plastic chair. I’m going to fire up the ear buds and fill myself with music I love. I will relax and feel good about this story. Each of us gets to accumulate our own necklace of spiritual pearls and that is all we can ask for in life.
Treasure these moments.
