The Opening

Part of riding is falling. Yesterday, a motorcyclist lost control of his motorcycle on a curve, and I broke hard in order to not hit him. The road was wet. I went down. This is the first time where I have actually hurt myself on these kinds of falls (on curves). I am not concerned. The healing will happen in its own time.

The worst part of being injured is not being able to ride. 🙂

Here is a poem I wrote this morning, using this as a metaphor for life.

The Opening

we hit the hard pavements of our lives,
stopped on our journey
by unexpected circumstances
that twist our solution-oriented minds
and tear out little pieces of our battle-worn hearts,
leaving vacancies
that can only be filled
by the warm smiles of those we love,
and by the colorful birds that land
on the balconies of our afternoons
to remind us of the song we lost
years ago when the dark came
to extinguish the light we held
so innocently in our tender bodies,
the light of our soul.
Flat on our backs, we behold the blue skies,
the gray skies, the clouded skies of life,
pausing to sense
both our pain and
the next possible move towards restoration.
Then we reach out
for the hands that will pull us up,
and we climb back onto our hopes and dreams,
knowing that just as we will slam into pavements,
into inner walls and labyrinths,
so too shall we feel the honey-scented winds
carry away our useless, old structures,
until we can once again dance with life,
the light within growing and free
to illuminate the beauty all around us,
our bodies firmly grounded in our spirits,
as we open our whole selves
into the wonder and magic of this,
our only beloved home,
this blue, live planet
that breathes as we breathe,
and survives us as we survive ourselves
and the ruptures
of this, our only life.
July 21, 2018
Image result for parked motorcycle syndrome

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