One of the most enjoyable experiences for me is hopping on my motorbike, strapping a tent and sleeping bag to the back, and heading out in a direction. Any direction. Choosing roads and turns because they look interesting or fun, or because someone you have met on your journey recommended a certain path. You may not get far fast, but the sites, the people, and the experience make it all worthwhile. Not that the journey is totally random. I always leave with a direction in mind, and usually an intended destination, and unfortunately a time line that returns me to the “responsibilities” of daily living.
Travelling this way does at time have its challenges, as you may expect. Not every road is as smooth as racing down the highway. Some of the roads you choose may have more winds and twists in than you expect, and while they may make the ride more exciting, slow down the trip significantly. Some roads, while providing a beautiful sideline to your journey, are dead ends and leave you backtracking for part of your trip before being able to resume direction to your ultimate destination. As long as you keep the rubber on the road and the shiny side up it's always a good journey, and the rough patches that make for part of the story.
I suppose, in retrospect, the way I enjoy riding my motor bike is a a metaphor for how I have lived my life. I remember as a young boy in North Bay, Ont., writing down my planned destination for my life in my journal. I was going to be a writer, a musician, and a craftsman living on a sprawling ranch with my own roaming herd of horses. I believe at the time my idea of the ranch was something about the size of the Ponderosa from Bonanza (which according to the internet would have been a mere 600,000 acres), but if you are going to dream, dream big! The route I was taking to get to that final destination was anything but direct, with plenty of side trips, but I was well on my way. Just didn't plan on a raging cager (in biker terminology) running me down before I could reach my destination.
I am six months out from that major life crash and that combined with the pending birthday finds me not only introspective, but confused, and pensive, and perhaps even bewildered and befuddled. The deeper I look the more confused I seem to get.
Writing has always been an intrinsic part of my life. Whether it has just been in my journals, or in letters and reports, in technical documents and text books and business plans, on the web, and in books and magazine articles, writing has been the one constant on my journey. Much of that writing sadly disappeared with my last partner (the raging cager I referred to earlier) and I fear is gone forever. Gratefully some of it has been found again in the forms of copies of my published books contained in the archives of the Canadian National Library. Writing did in fact save my life. Had I not used it to think out loud and communicate through this blog I am not sure (in fact I am very confident) that I would have made it through a very trying time.
Writing has always been, and will always be, the keystone in the bridge to the rest of my journey. Music on the other hand has sadly been waylaid somewhere along the roads I have taken. I am not sure at what point it was waylaid, or if it just simply faded into the background as other priorities in the moment took its place. If I had to pinpoint the time that music began to fade I think it faded away as certain friendships of my youth faded away. That road I took away from the music is one of those that I think I need to follow back to its source and head down a different route. There was a time when I would quickly learn any instrument I had the pleasure of touching (though drums simply eluded me). It was often a bit of a competition between my closest friend and I at who could master what instrument the best. I believe it is time to bring some of that music back. My guitars also disappeared with my writing but I think I am going to spend some time in the wood shop and build my own. An interesting challenge to my craftsman skills and, I hope, a motivator to play again.
The craftsman is well on its way. Through great teachers and coworkers I believe my skills as a blacksmith do qualify me as a craftsman and I truly love working with metal and wood. It is work but it is also very therapeutic at the same time. Of course all of my tools need to be replaced. This is one of those things that remains a source of confusion for me. How can someone who once proclaimed they loved you more than anything take everything that is you, everything you needed to continue your work and career, all of your family inheritances and history, and disappear with it leaving you literally sleeping in the streets in the middle of an ice cold winter? I just can't make sense of it or understand it, and while I know that holds me back there is a need within me to find an answer.
That being said, I have been given opportunities to continue with my blacksmithing, moving forward a step at a time, building my shop up again one tool at a time. I did it once before and I will do it again.
As for my dream of the Ponderosa, there is no room in my heart for that anymore. While I miss the work of being a farrier, and helping horses that needed help, the part they played in destroying a family makes them difficult to even look at for me. I realize that it was absolutely no fault of the horses, and that the obsession, and compulsion my partner had for horses was not healthy for her, me, or our family. I suppose that my guilt for allowing that problem to cause suffering for the horses and the family plays a big part in not having room in my heart for them anymore. The dogs I loved, my Saint Bernards and Basset Hounds disappeared as well and, while I enjoy being around my friend's dogs, I am still heart broke at the thought of Fritter and Glory not being in my life anymore. When I see a Basset or Saint my heart hits the floor and it is difficult to hold the tears back.
I think the dream of the Ranch has been crushed and I don't know what will fill that empty space yet. That is part of the search I am on I suppose. But the deep truth is there is another space that I struggle to fill. The space that was filled by a friend and partner that I could share my life was so brutally torn open that the jagged edges left behind don't really allow anyone else to fit into that hole. It is not that there haven't been beautiful, wonderful people who have cared about me and tried to fit into that space, but the truth is the most damaged thing in this entire experience has been my faith and trust in people. I am a loving and caring individual, and it cuts deep when I can't find it in myself to trust, care, and love others.
I know there is much more healing to take place. I don't know that there ever really be an opening for that friend and partner that I desire but just can't let in.
My birthday is a milestone to me. The beginning of beginning my life's journey over. Setting out on a new road with new directions and new choices, though this time with no destination really in site. It is the destination that I am searching for.
The journey begins as I climb onto my bike and head off into the sunset!
You may not remember me but as a farrier you kept an aged horse of mine comfortable and healthy for several years when no other would or could. I must say that it is sad and a disservice to horsepeople to not have you practicing as a farrier anymore.
ReplyDeleteAfter finding this site I have taken a couple of weeks to read through all the posts. I am surprised no one else has pointed that you have not really given up horses, just swapped your percheron that you always spoke so fondly about for all those horses you ride in that big bike of yours. If you return to practicing as a farrier please let us know. I have sent you a private email as well.