Here I am writing my first post in what, five years, on an account I forgot I had? I had the thought to say people have told me I should write, which is true, but I wrote that in the first post on this blog quite some time ago, so I'll spare it. The big difference this time is some of my friends gifted me a Sony mirrorless camera, so now I have the ability to take decent photos for my writing, my own photography skills being the current limitation. The camera itself is no more challenging to use than any other, but it is still a new device to me and so are the mechanical concepts behind its' use, so none of the photos I've taken thus far are what I would consider 'good'. They convey an idea, an impression, sometimes a feeling, but are out-of-focus, blurry, and a bit silly looking.
I am focusing on better writing, better flow, better soul. I am open to constructive criticism on my writing, if you feel the desire to say something.
-cycling-
I've done a great deal of riding since I've last written. I posted some thoughts from a few tours on a blog I have *somewhere*, but even that was about six years ago. I've grown a bit since then, riding sometimes on a daily basis, and changing 'as a cyclist', as it were, from a man who dislikes climbs to one who actively seeks them out.
On my last tour a bit over a month ago I rode from LA to Lone Pine for 247 miles or so, slept, climbed Onion Valley Road, camped in Alabama Hills with new friends, climbed spectacular Horseshoe Meadows Road, camped in Alabama Hills again, and finished the trip by riding up Whitney Portal and returning to LA that day, 240 miles or so back. Three of the biggest Sierra road climbs in one shot, no car, just bike.
Prior to this trip, which I might add wasn't a plan for more than a week prior, I rode up to Santa Cruz to see family and ride further. I met very strong headwinds going north along the coast, as is sometimes the case, and was slowed to 3mph at times, which at times made me feel very strong, other times deafened and demotivated. Five days or so of a crawling pace covering ground I've done in two. When I got to my sister's house, I ended up staying for a week and letting go of some things inside I had held for months. I had recently broken up with my girlfriend at the time, and we had been together for a few years.
I am in my mid-30's now, and I have had a few significant relationships in my life. I have ended a few and have had a few ended for me. I have changed my life more times than I thought would happen, restarted, been here and there, pushed beyond different limits, and at the risk of sounding cliché would say I've learned a lot about myself but really I think I've learned about being human. Cycling is therapy for me like climbing used to be, more accessible but less intense. I've ridden through thoughts that dragged me deep into darkness and some that carried me up into strength above the clouds. The deeper levels where the light is scarce are part of dealing with the end of love, of that deep connection with someone you know so deeply. 'Breaking' that connection, or perhaps disconnecting it in our ways with their tendrils slowly uncurling and stretching to infinity between the two people takes time, discipline, understanding, pain. I am more loving to others and myself in this process now than I have been before, more understanding.
While riding back down the coast through Big Sur alone, I had some help from a friend, and from some mushrooms. My ride started in the day, and I took them at the top of the hill near Posts, overlooking the big downhill that drops you into Big Sur proper, finally free. I would ride through the night to camp south of Cambria. I feel the mushrooms helped me understand some things. It may be challenging to describe this in a way that those who haven't had them can understand. I became clearly aware of how vast time itself is, especially amongst the ancient trees at Rigdon Fountain where I refill my bottles when I ride through, and looking across the endless Pacific Ocean as it meets the continent. I felt as if searching for answers, while a primary concern for us apes, is in some ways perhaps also so small as to barely warrant response from the universe at large. I asked myself, nearly spoken, how much pain someone can take, and how much one can love. The answer was immediate, yet not forced nor assumed, and that answer was that there was no limit. This is the concept of those two things, separate and the same, and nothing at the same time, as all things are, in the endless expanse of our universe. Perhaps I could write more detail on what I felt and thought, but this was several months ago and some of the details have faded, though the lesson remains the same. This helped me greatly, and since then I have felt significantly better.
The mushrooms slowly wore off as I rode on through the changing light and fog banks into the afternoon, and onward into the evening. Big Sur proper ends at Ragged Point, for just south of this establishment one crosses the Carpoforo Creek and the mountainous twisting nature of Big Sur changes to long straights and gentle moorland as if a switch has been thrown. I was at peace in the dark of the evening when I arrived at the little coffee shop in Ragged Point, and ordered a strong mocha. It was just a little bit before closing time, maybe 2030 hours, and a heavy fog hung around lazily, softening the lights in this sudden mild shock of civilization. I remember feeling distinctly affected, if not perhaps a bit changed, by what I had thought through on this another trip through Big Sur, always with its bounty of insight. I slowly enjoyed my mocha, stretched, filled my bottles, and let myself adjust to the coming change of pace, of reentering civilization.
I have had significant challenges with anger in my life, from within myself, my family, friends, and those I have been very close with. I cannot afford to give anger and hate a place within myself. I cannot find myself angry at another. If I am to survive into what appears to be the surprising possibility of a normal (read: long) life span, I cannot hold onto negativity. I have to let things go. This doesn't mean it is simple or easy, quite on the contrary for some things, such as relationships. I just cannot let it stew within and sour all parts of my mind and soul.
I sometimes think of a military training mindset that states you are the master of your self, your destiny. This requires ownership of self and action, responsibility of all within. I have been thinking on this more lately due to big life changes in 2021. I feel a lot of the weak philosophy being tossed around in recent times does not even acknowledge this mindset, instead telling the user they are a victim and others are to blame for their perceived shortcomings, failures, discomforts, etc. I fear for humanity. I fear this mindset has taken root in too many minds, many of them young, and people give up freedom of self and soul, which I've seen leads some to give up their personal freedoms of the physical sort as well. In the future, only the criminals shall be free, the rebels, the insurgents. They will likely also be branded terrorists as well. I fear a great unfeeling monster will consume all free people, offering comfort and security in trade for autonomy of self and freedom of soul. I can only give in to such a philosophy so much and for so long, and it feels nauseating and morally bankrupt upon first taste. I fear this philosophy will ruin many people's lives, and they will find out only too late how much damage they have let it do by allowing it space in their minds as they become, at times, enthusiastic hosts for the parasite.
It would easily seem I could take this in several directions, a notion you may entertain on your own looking off elsewhere away from the screen as your mind wanders down different paths, but I shall remain on my tiny path. I have no hatred, dislike or distaste for others in general. I am human, one small human, and I cannot hate people for I are one, and being one, I am by no choice of my own subject to experiencing that which makes us so strong and so weak, so intelligent and so impulsive and irrational. Life is a masterclass in the human condition. Attendance is mandatory.
This does not mean you must suffer more, for most suffering is self imposed, more rocks one tosses into their ruck, self imposed exile or solitary confinement in their darker corner of their mind, a place so endless and vast yet one confines themselves to a space too small to sustain life. You are in charge of your mind, yourself. You have a great deal more control over the tides of your mind than conventional wisdom states. The weak philosophy I previously touched on would state this is not the case. Why would one accept into their soul a philosophy which weakens them and makes them dependent upon a mindset that will destroy them? There is no escaping pain, suffering, anger, guilt, all the possible negativities. Suffering is a realization in life itself, as is pain, in the same way love and happiness and joy are. Just as some who are recently heartbroken often say love sucks, because love and hate, pleasure and pain are often of the same being. One cannot have light without darkness, but one can understand the darkness as well as the light and handle it within themselves. This takes strength. It takes strength to understand, to let go, to not lose your temper or blame something or someone else for a moment of weakness. We all fail at times and sometimes hurt others. One must understand this and learn from it, while not destroying themselves in the process. One must also love their soul, which I often refer to in place of the self, for without love for their own soul how can they survive? How can one love others if they cannot love their self? I may not know much, but I do not think it possible.
-soul, healing, existence-
I name this section what I perhaps should've named the previous, a fair trade for a transition before I close my writings up for the night.
I find it nearly impossible to heal and focus, or alternatively in a way to let go, when surrounded by distractions in places such as a city. I tend to call this 'civilization', for this is how I have experienced it. I enjoy a warm shower, warm dry bed, the feeling in my fingers and toes, companionship of friends and family. In a word, comfort, perhaps oversimplified but for this moment it shall have to do. As always I feel one must move beyond 'comfort' to grow in times of challenge. I cannot grow and heal indoors. Perhaps I hope someone is reading this and applies it to their own reality. In the chaos and occasional violence of biological existence, one would do well to ponder, meditate, heal, think, wander inside the great outdoors of their mind. I know mine needs great space to roam.
Be well.
