Lessons In Minimalism

  As I write this I am sitting on the shore of the Lower Lake in Kananaskis with my partner watching the water, the mountains, and the clouds moving across the sky. I love to watch as the jagged mountain peaks as they seem to pierce the clouds and tear them into jagged edged pieces. Our camp site behind us is little more then a tent, a couple of sleeping bags, a couple of fold up chairs, and some cooking supplies. The sites around us are occupied with trailers of all shapes and sizes, RV s larger then buses, a few tents, and everything in between.

   It is amusing to hear different peoples view of “roughing it.” More then a few have commented on our meagre accoutrements but travelling by motorbike has been, if nothing else, a lesson in minimalism. It is truly amazing just how little we need to get by from day to day when we put our minds to it. We spend so much of our lives and resources gathering and acquiring and storing “things” then working for the space to store those things only to fill it up and find we need more space.

   Never was this so obvious to me as it was earlier this summer when two of us set out on one motorbike for an almost 5000 kilometre journey (3000 miles for those not on the metric system). Saddle bags and a tail bag was our total allotment of space for almost two weeks of travel. At the end of that trip there was never a point that we went without. Well that is not completely true as we went without all of the nic nacs and junk we would have bought at each stop to remember our stay there since we didn't have room to carry it (which eased up on our trip budget!). We had to do a load of laundry on the road and wash a few other thing in the hotel sinks but it was a stark contract to the loads of laundry we would have generated at home and an eye opener to just how many of those gadgets we could do without.

  Our week long trips to the Kananaskis have required using our small bike trailer. By the time you put in the tent, sleeping bags, cooking supplies, and food, it is pretty much full. A lot of room is freed up just not having to bring along our electronic gadgets like laptops and phones and power supplies since we camp where there is no power or cell phone service. The thing is if you don't have them you don’t really miss them. There is so much...Life... to occupy your time.

   Travelling like this by bike reminds me of a trip I took when I was young. My friend, his father, and his grandfather took a couple of canoes deep into Algonquin Park and we carried with us only what we could carry on our backs at portages. There were few times I found myself so at peace and at one with the world around me. I suppose that is one of the reasons I enjoy my motorbike so much – the similarity between my bike and a canoe.

   I know some of you think that is a stretch but if you think about it there are many similarities;

• A motorbike exposes you the the environment around you – so does a canoe.
• A motorbike is at the whim of the environment around you – so is a canoe.
• A motorbike limits what you can travel with – so does a canoe.
• A motorbike requires your constant attention to your surroundings – so does a canoe.
• A motorbike lets you see more, smell more, and interact with more – so does a canoe.
• A motorbike makes you part of the world around you – so does a canoe.

   These trips have been an exercise in minimalism and all the more pleasant because of that. If you want to know what you really can or can not do without then take a long trip on a motorcycle – the truth shall set you free

 

Ride your bike like you live your life -

No final destination in mind

Just take as long as you can to get there

and enjoy and learn from each moment of that journey!

 

The Perfect Place To Roar

  A recent ride took me up to Roger's pass as part of my 4500 kilometre (or 2800 mile) journey through Alberta and BC. Getting there wasn't exactly an easy task. Sure, all I had to do was make the drive but making that drive took some preplanning, mapping out my route, taking a few rest breaks and side trips on the way, and dealing with whatever elements mother earth felt like hurling at us as we rode up the mountain side.

  The ride was enjoyable for the most part, despite the cold rain that pelted down. The scenery of course was incredible. The favourite part of this part of my trip though was not the scenery, but the tunnels carved into the sides of the mountains and concreted over to protect fortunate souls from avalanches and rock slides.

  Why were the tunnels my favourite?

  Do you remember when you were a kid and your parents would drive the car through a tunnel and you would jump up and down encouraging them to honk their horn? Can you not still here the sound in the depths of your memory as the horn reverberated through the tunnel to sound ten times louder then it ever was? That's why!

  I love the sound of my bike. It has a nice rumble to it. Not ear splitting like some enjoy and not hard and rough, just a nice, low smooth rumble. As I drove through those tunnels I dropped down a gear, opened up the throttle, and let my bike roar like it never had before. It was a sweet sound as those pipes sang a song that reverberated through the confines of those tunnels. Then, before you could truly loose yourself in that almost heavenly sound, we were out of the tunnel and back in the pouring rain.

  There are several tunnels in which I got to press the replay button on this sweet song but soon enough it was just the open road, wind, and rain calling our name. As I made the drive down the other side of the mountain it occurred to me how much like life this was. We set out a plan for ourselves and head on down the road. Occasionally we make a stop and perhaps a little side journey or two but eventually we return to that planned route, a goal in mind. As we work towards that goal we face challenges and forces that try to push us back but we forge ahead and then you find it! You find that place where you can let your pipes roar! That place where you can be the biggest sound or the brightest light in the place.

  It is over before you know it as the forces beat against you again. If you are lucky you will find that place again. Whether you find it again or not you know you found it once and you can make it back there. It is that hope that keeps you moving forward, searching, striving, for that perfect place where you can shine.

Reboot

You know how you leave your computer on for hours, days, even weeks at a time.  You install new programs, uninstall old ones, search the web, watch videos, read email, and download updates until your computer becomes so slow that you wonder if an abacus wouldn't be faster.  At this point you scroll down to that little window icon and ask your computer to do a soft reboot, hoping and praying that this action will clear out all of the cobwebs from your technological wonder and restore it to its youthful vigor. You wait cautiously during that pregnant pause where your computer is silent until it kicks back on, the fan vibrating away, the upgrades installing and then... The home home screen.

I find myself in that "pregnant pause" phase of my life.  I hit the soft reboot switch about 11 o'clock yesterday morning when I hopped on the motorbike and hit the highway for an 11 day road trip.  After a very long year filled with 18 hour work days between two jobs, moves, and so much more I can't remember most of it, the time had come to hit that reboot button.  This time thankfully it is a soft reboot, not the hard reboot that started his blog a year and a half ago.

The bike and the road was calling my name. So I am now cruising the highways, wind in my.....helmet, clearing out the cobwebs.  From Calgary to Victoria to Telegraph Cove to Jasper and then home.  No time line.  No schedule.  I am where I am when I am there.

Once I return home it will be time to install the upgrades.  Out goes the teaching software and midnight shift software as I upgrade into a new - regular hour work week position.  I will still keep some of the old software like blacksmithing version 2 and farrier version 2.5 as software like this is always useful and fun but I will be upgrading to writing version 3.0 since obviously, from the lack of posts on this blog in a while, crashed at some point.

If you see me and the lovely woman with me at one of our stops feel free to stop and chat with us.  We hit Banff yesterday (which is just basically a high-end Calgary mall where you pay more for less) and spent the night in Golden which is a nice little town.  Great food and people were found in a restaurant (whose name I can't remember) in a log building in front of the Century house - and by great food I mean really great!

Today I am making my way to Langley.  Maybe I will meet some of you on the way

Pulchraphilia

Pulchraphilia

   Before you run to get a bar of soap to wash my mouth out with you should know that pulchraphilia is not a bad word. If you try looking it up in the dictionary you are not likely to find the word there since the word itself is a rather new creation coined by a Jason McLennan sometime in 2010. I tried Googling it and as near as I can tell the exact definition is still somewhat fluid so I will go with the definition provided by a brilliant man and long time friend.

  Pulchraphilia (noun): The innate need to be surrounded by beautiful and well-designed environments with a particular connection to nature.

   It was this definition posted on Facebook by my friend that got me to thinking how those who design motorbikes and ride them are probably pulchraphiliacs at heart. (Hey if someone else can create a word, Why can't I?) . Now given that the word “pulchraphilia” has it roots in the latin with ‘pulchra’, meaning ‘beauty’, and ‘philia’, meaning ‘love of’, pulchraphilia would be a love of beauty. This would of course be in direct opposition to those who design enclosed environments that seal us of from the world around us, which based on my minimal command of latin would be coerceophilia, and those who lean towards those environments would by extension be coerceophiliacs, or as bikers know them, cagers.

   With my little aside on the entomology and creation of words aside, there is a point to this blog post that does have to do with one of my favourite things, motorbikes.

   There isn't much I haven't driven or rode in from a horse to a horse and buggy, to bikes (manual and motorized), to cars, to trucks, to big rigs and tractors. The equine modes of transportation provide you with a real connection to nature of course but the next best thing to me are motorbikes. As soon as you close yourself in a car, or truck similar modes of transportation you loose that connection with nature and the environment around you. These vehicles are designed to surround and enclose you (coerceo) and “protect” you from what is outside. They close you off from the sounds as radios blast while you are driving down the road. They close you off from the scents as closed windows and dangling air fresheners lock you in a private world of odours. They close you off from sights as your vision is obscured by both the size of the vehicle and the structure surrounding you.

   There is of course a trend among some bike designers towards coerceophilia as they create shrouds to surround and enclose you on your motorbike, add stereos that blast so loud the biker and every vehicle within 100 yards can hear the music, and embed ipods and phones into helmets. Perhaps I am a purest, but that feeling of the wind blowing by me, the sound of it rushing by and the sounds of the environment around me, the smells of the fields and forests as I pass through (the smell of smog and exhaust perhaps not so pleasurable), and the unobstructed sight of everything around me – these are the things that make riding my motorbike a truly spiritual experience.

   The realization that I am not surrounded by a wall of protection encourages me, perhaps even forces me to be aware or my environment and engage it and interact with it. When a passenger joins me on my bike I have to react and respond to their small movements, creating communication and interaction on a level totally different from everyday communication. As I cruise down the road I am forced to analyze and assess the possible actions of those around me in their mobile cages, a level of thought and concentration as we normally move through our environment.

   Could motorbike designers have anything but pulchraphilia in mind, even though their creations were launched long before the word? Pulchraphiliacs of the world unite – let those coerceophiliacs of the world know what they are missing. Or perhaps not. Maybe we should just keep the secret to ourselves.

Our Homeless Are The Log In Our Eye

   As our temperatures reach -30 celcius with windchills into the -40's I find my heart heavy. Not because I can't be out enjoying my motorbike, but because there are those out, on the streets, with no place to go and stay warm. It was close to a year ago that I had found myself in a very similar situation, although I did have the shelter of a car. Despite having that car when that car shut off while I was sleeping I was closer to freezing to death than I care to admit.

  

   I have kept a close eye on programs and services available to those without homes since that time and not much has changed. There are good people still trying to help, but so many still fall through the cracks. New programs have been announced but what I don't see are programs being developed with the input of those that are homeless. Sure some of those being consulted were homeless at some point in their lives, but much of what is being done is being decided by people who “know what's best” and are telling the homeless what they need. Programs like this have failure written all over them.

   There is something else that really bothers me, and though it may offend many, the fact that it happens offends me enough that I will risk the ire of some of my readers. In this city, and citys throughout the country there are churches – massive structures designed to hold numerous people with the heat running and, sadly, the doors locked! I personally don't know that God, any god, says leave your poor and suffering out in the streets, hungry, cold, and with no shelter.

   I understand that in times such as these there are dangers, both health and physical, in bringing strangers into your own home. I am also aware that governments, local, municipal, and on up, have put in place limitations and restrictions on what and were these individuals without homes can be gathered and housed, so the fault does not lie within the churches or the people of the churches alone. It is the general malaise of society that has us directing our leaders to herd and house the homeless away from everyone else as though they are lepers and the dregs of society that need to be separated and isolated.

   Any one of us could find ourselves among this group. Many of us live one paycheck away from being on the street. Disasters can hit anyone of us at any moment leaving individuals and communities without shelter or food. And none of us can control the actions and behaviours of other individuals that can leave us reeling and without resources.

   While this may sound like a rant against the churches and society it is not. It is merely the observations of an individual who has been on both sides of this picture. My observations also tell me though that there are many good people out there to. People on both sides of the picture. Individuals who know that actions speak louder than words. Whether motivated by their religious beliefs, or merely by their sense of responsibility for their fellow man, there are those who are open, and understanding, and non-judgemental who will help where they can, when they can. People who realize that while we are trying to cure the ills of the world in other societies, we leave others to falter out our own back doors.

   There is a quote in the Bible that says something to the effect of “Why do you see the speck that is in your brother's eye, but do not notice the log that is in your own eye? Or how can you say to your brother, `Let me take the speck out of your eye,' when there is the log in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the log out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to take the speck out of your brother's eye.” Our homeless are the log in our eye (at least they are one of the many logs in our eye).

   Yes, I am fully aware that I am voicing a judgement when I probably have a few huge logs of my own stuck in my eye. But if one person reads this and takes an action that helps someone else in even the smallest way I have accomplished what I wanted to. As you head into the coffee shop, the restaurant, or the grocery store keep in mind that person sitting out on the street. In this deathly cold weather invite them in with you and buy them a coffee or a meal. Take a few minutes to get to know them. You may be surprised what you find out and even learn. And as you make donations to help individuals in other countries keep in mind that we ourselves are doing the same to our own people.

Self Portraits

  There are artists that have recorded their lives in a series of self portraits painted or drawn over many years. It is interesting to examine these portraits. As you compare the portraits from a person's youth to those of the older artist it often appears as though the images of the more senior artist reflect more of an internal insight than just the simple external appearance. Of course, this may simply be the result of the skills of the artist improving over time, enabling them to transfer that inner person to the canvas.

   All of us though, artists or not, have a self portrait that we try and present to the world each and every day. As children that self portrait is a true reflection of our inner selves, concealing nothing. As we age though we develop this image of ourselves (in a sense a self portrait) and to make that image reality it is what we present to others around us.

   It is just my personal opinion, but I think that for most of us that self portrait we present doesn't really reflect our true selves until much later in our lives, after experiencing life and its many twists and turns and gaining the wisdom that comes with that experience.

  Don't misunderstand me. I am by no means saying that I am wise, though I do hope I have gained some wisdom over the years. There is a school of thought though that states that true wisdom lies in knowing what you don't know, not what you do know. In my case there is a hole lot I don't know which would make me truly wise.

  Eckhart Tolle said “On a deeper level you are already complete. When you realize that, there is a playful, joyous energy behind what you do.” Maybe that is why as a child our self portraits are such a true reflection of our inner self. As children we let that playful, joyous energy shine through in everything we do, though it doesn't take long for the world to start muzzling that. It isn't until much later in life that many of us let the world do what it wants and we return to that childlike state.

  If I tried to remember all the self portraits I would have painted of myself over the years they would be many an varied but in many ways I think I have come full circle. As a child there were a few things that I truly enjoyed. Writing was one of them, and that has stuck with me in some form or another throughout my entire life. Riding my bike was another, though at that time my bike was a CCM pedal bike (just a few less horsepower then my current bike). I travelled the world on that bike – well at least the world of North Bay, for hours on end with my friends, exploring and discovering everything there was to discover.

What would my self portraits look like if I had to describe them? I think if I was to use motorbikes at metaphors for my life I probably started my life as a classic Indian Chief motorbike, basic, typical for the time, good looking, and fun. I went from there to a custom chopper (after-all everyone wants to be cool in their teenage years).

  From there I would have been a crotch rocket, racing ahead in life trying to get the prize.

 At some point I became an old Ural, rode hard, beat up, barely hanging together, but still an inner strength to me for someone to discover.

Now, I picture myself as that Indian Chief again, with the classic soft lines (and getting softer by the day) but easy going, laid back, and enjoying life.

Full circle! I no doubt missed a few versions of myself in there which my friends will remind me about but this is a self portrait.

So what do your self portraits look like?

Calgary Motorcycle Show

We attended the Calgary Motorcycle Show yesterday and as always it was impressive, but lacking a little bit over past years. Other than the throngs of people moving through the Round-Up Center (am I the only person who gets totally annoyed when two people stop to talk in the middle of a narrow aisle forcing everyone to try and navigate around them) there was some interesting things to see.

While the new models are impressive I just don't seem to like the lines of most of them. Perhaps I am old school but I prefer the softer lines of many of the old bikes without all the adornments and gadgets. There were several “custom” bike shops there who all seem to do nice work, but most of the bikes they had were just rehashes of the usual custom rides, nice but nothing that stood out to me.

Calgary Motorcycle Show

Calgary Motorcycle Show

Sadly missing from the show this year was the extensive display of vintage rides. They did have a few out, but nowhere near what has been at the show in the past. The usual display of truly unique and quality custom rides wasn't there either. It is great that so many new people are getting into motorbikes and I understand it is a business so dedicating the space to new bikes makes sense but I think we are missing something by not having the opportunity to appreciate the vintage rides and the unique custom work.

Of course the new Indian bikes were there, and while they maintained some of their classic lines they just aren't the same with all the electronics and modern amenities on them. I want an Indian but what I want is the 1945 Indian Chief. That's not asking too much, is it? I'll take it in parts and pieces if I have to but some day . . .

5 Simple Rules To Live By

As we were cleaning out a room to set up a new office space and a new home for my desk my partner came across a well worn little slip of paper. On this paper were “5 Simple Rules To Be Happy”. It was given to her many years ago by one of her friends when she was going through a rough time and it stayed on her desk at work for a long time, and with her for a much longer time. Theses rules kind of hit home when I read through them.

1. Free you heart from hatred.
2. Free your mind from worries.
3. Live Simply
4. Give More
5. Expect Less

Pretty simple when you look at them, and pretty effective when you put them into practice. The first one really resonates with me because it is so easy for many of us to hate, but we fail to recognize that our hearts are much like the gas tank on a motorcycle (or any other vehicle for that matter).

Okay, okay, I can hear the eyes rolling back as many of my readers try and figure out just how I am going to equate a motorcycle's gas tank and a heart. It is pretty simple really!

Your gas tank has a limited capacity. Now you can put anything you want into that gas tank from high octane fuel, to regular fuel (I shudder at the thought), to sugar. As you fly down the open road you get that sense of thrill and joy, using up some of that fuel. The wider you open the throttle, the faster you fly, the greater the sense of thrill and joy. All the time, while you are burning off that fuel you are making room for more fuel to go into that tank. If you fill that tank with crap fuel or anything else, you are not going to get anywhere fast as your system plugs up and possibly shuts down altogether which means there is no room to put in new fuel.

Our hearts are much the same. If we fill them with love it will take us flying through life and the more love we give, the more we receive. If you fill your heart with hatred it will stop you dead in your tracks. It will sit and rot and fester and leave no room for anything good to enter your heart.

So clean out the crud and fill your heart with some high octane fuel. You will be amazed at the results!!

The Year Ahead

  As this Christmas moves into our rear view mirrors it becomes a time of reflection and planning for many, the preparations to enter the new year with a plan of action. I find myself with a lot to reflect after a whirlwind (or perhaps tornado would be the more appropriate descriptor) year, and some exciting plans. It was almost a year ago that this blog started as my thought process after finding myself on the streets, with virtually nothing. The blog was a bitter, sad, angry compilation when it started. It has progressed over the year to something more, which thankfully many seem to enjoy.
I hope that this blog always encourages its readers to think about others, and helps those in tough places to find some small bit of hope. I hope it encourages some comtemplation and deliberation. I hope it reveals some perspectives on life and the people around us that may not be so obvious to everyone. There are those individuals who take from others and take no concern in destroying the lives of others in pursuit of their own goals. Whatever their reasons or motivations, I can't help but feel a little sorry for these people because I don't think they can ever really be happy.

One of the things I would like to do with this blog is introduce you to others who have come from tough places and situations and are working to overcome their challenges. I am looking for suggestions from my readers on individuals whose stories would be of interest to others. In keeping with the theme of this website, if these individuals ride a motorbike it would be fantastic. I am looking for people who live within a days bike ride from Calgary so I can ride out on the motorbike, sit down and have a coffee and conversation, maybe go for a ride, then head back home and share this person's stories with my readers here and at Motorbike Zen.

In the next year I will be returning to some of the work that I truly love. My blacksmithing and horseshoeing. After the year long hiatus Steppin' On the FrogFarrier Service will be starting back up. I will be starting to take on new clients in late February and March and am pretty excited about returning to horses in this capacity. I will also be retooling my shop and taking on more blacksmithing projects as Akasha Forge &Foundry.

Of course I will be eagerly awaiting the arrival of bike riding weather so I can return to the open roads and enjoy the wind rushing past me, my partner holding on tight to my waist as we lean into the corners.

I look forward to a good year ahead and I hope all of you have a good year as well.

The Spirit of Christmas

“It's the most wonderful time of the year” or so the song tells us. Unfortunately for many that is not the reality of Christmas. Christmas time is in fact one of the most depressing and stressful times of the year.

Now if you are a biker like me it is a depressing and stressful time of year because are rides are closed up and covered up in some garage or shed just waiting for the sun to shed enough warmth on our part of the world to allow us to ride the blacktop again. It is not just bikers that don't like this time of year though, but individuals from all walks of life.

Personally I find Christmas a challenging, difficult, and frustrating time of year. Frustrating because, unlike the song says, I find Christmas to be the most hypocritical time of the year. Everyone get's into the “Christmas spirit” as Christmas approaches, loving and giving and helping other people and a variety of causes. They give, and help and support – until Christmas is over – and then they forget that joy and peace, the people and causes, and retreat into their own selfish little worlds for another 11 1/2 months. Of course many retreat into those worlds because they are busy dealing with the excesses of the Christmas season. After-all it is no longer the thought behind the gift that counts, but the value and size and whether or not it keeps up with the neighbours.

Hard times can fall on any of us at any time. Many fail to realize that. I failed to the true reality of that up until the last year, and were it not for the loving and caring of people who truly carry the spirit of Christmas in their hearts year round I could easily be having my Christmas at least alone, if not worse. My best Christmas gifts this year are the ability to spend it with people I love and care for, and who feel the same about me; time I get to spend with family (though there are family and friends I wish I could just reach out and tell them how much I love them); the fact I have a roof over my head; and a job I truly love.

The fact that this Christmas season in Calgary is warm enough to get my bike out for a ride is a bonus.

I truly hesitate to wish anyone a merry Christmas – but I will wish for all that they keep the spirit of Christmas in their hearts year round and with everyone you deal with. May the spirit of Christmas haunt you through each and every day of your life.

Perfect . . . .

   Perfect storm. Perfect day. Perfect ride. They are all different but the same, a situation created by a rare combination or concurrence of factors the alter a situation dramatically. In the case of a perfect storm that combination of factors that all too often results in devastation and destruction. That combinations of factors can result in a hurricane, a tornado, or in our own personal realities, the destruction of our lives and personal realities.

    A perfect day is very similar to a perfect ride, something every biker seeks on each ride out. It is the combination or weather, road conditions, traffic levels, scenery, companions and friends, starting and ending locations, food, drink, and so much more. It is a unique combination that you know you could never have planned, or even dreamed up on your own. A concurrence that you will never be able to duplicate no matter how hard you try, and if even if you could, it will not be perfect the next time because timing is everything.

   The nice thing about a perfect ride is that you can have more than one. It is never the same ride, but given time and patience another perfect ride will inevitably come your way.

   Life does not often throw a perfect situation your way. Life is in fact all about imperfections and the challenges in dealing with them. It is hard to imagine people, who in their very nature are about as imperfect as you can get, getting together to create a perfect situation. Even if they could you just know that someone involved is going to rethink that perfect process - and spoil it.

   We are often encouraged to “go with the flow” as we live out our daily lives, to not push against prevailing behaviour, norms and attitudes. While going with the flow can be a key part of that perfect experience we often fail to realize that truly being part of that perfect experience may mean stepping outside of those accepted norms. It takes real courage to do this. Jim Hightower said that “The opposite for courage is not cowardice, it is conformity. Even a dead fish can go with the flow.”

   I recently came across one of those situations. Had I gone with the flow I would have missed out on a “perfect storm” that would change my personal reality. A confluence of factors that, if I let my logical mind get in the way, would have passed before I knew it. Instead I chose to experience and encourage this confluence of factors – the result – a ride (through life) that may not be perfect (because I am unfortunately not perfect (but don't tell anyone else please)) will no doubt be enjoyable.

Fall has gripped us firmly now, softening us up for winter's blow, which unfortunately means there aren't a lot of great riding days left but I wish all my readers a perfect ride, on their bike and in their life.

Contemplating the Uncontemplatable - Lawyers Again!!

  Well after much thought, and the input of friends and family, I am going to meet with a law firm that has contacted me through this blog and offered to help me pro bono get back “what is mine.” (their words not mine.) I trust lawyers less than I trust my ex, which is unfortunately pretty bad, but I would love to have all my trade tools and equipment, my family heirlooms, and my writing back.

  I am very torn over this decision at the moment because the last thing I want to do is make my ex's life more difficult than it probably already is, nor do I want to run up more bills for her because in the end it is only that animals and the children that suffer. Getting the missing pieces of my life back only to destroy hers in the process is not the right thing to do but maybe these guys have a better plan, though I have never known a lawyer that didn't want to start by going for the heart and settling for nothing less than ripping out the groin.

  I will keep my faithful readers updated.

Bonds

  There is something that draws bikers together as a group, a community of sorts. Riding that motorbike automatically enters you into a group that has a comraderie that I have seldom seen among other groups. Now I know the first thing jumping into the minds of most cagers is the nefarious motorbike gangs that they hear about in the news all the time, but that is not what I am referring to. What I am referring to is that simple little, at times almost invisible, wave that is exchanged between bikers as they pass each other.
   If you have been driving behind a person on a motorbike you may have noticed this action as two bikes pass each other in opposite directions. The left hand lifts off the grip and drops down to below the grip or lower and forms a sign, unique to every rider, as the rider coming in the other direction does exactly the same thing. If you blink you will miss it, it is so subtle in most cases, but between bikers it is enough to recognize that common mindset.
  They don't know each each other. They may never see each other again. But they know they have something in common between each other. A unique bond.
  It is always amusing as a rider when you come across someone new to the community. These are the riders who are driving down the highway at 60 miles an hour and joyfully raise their hand high in the air to greet the oncoming biker. We have all experienced the sensation as a kid of sticking our arms out the window and feeling the wind push your arm backwards. Well picture this happening to a hand that is quickly raised in acknowledgement to an oncoming rider. The picture the other riders laughter as he watches that hand counter rotate around the shoulder of the newbie rider, flinging it back behind them flailing in the wind. It doesn't take a new rider long to avoid that from happening again.
  Bonds are fragile things though. Temporary. Fleeting. If you don't work at keeping those bonds together they soon fracture and tear apart, sometimes never to be repaired. Even if you try to repair them they are never the same, and sometimes you do more damage than just leaving them be. Think of those repair jobs that you have seen where someone tried to repair something and when they were done all you had left was a piece of junk with extra glue out the seams, extra nails sticking out, doors or drawers not lining up, and just a general mess that would have been better off left alone. The person's doing the repair may have been motivated just to try and bring a thing a beauty back to original lustre or some semblance thereof – the best of intentions gone awry.
  Those are the thoughts going through my mind as I enjoyed a ride on one of the warmest days of summer, which is nearing an end all too soon. A couple of quotes come to mind as I contemplate this.    The first is from Emily Dickinson:

Hope is the thing with feathers

That perches in the soul,

And sings the tune - - without the words,

And never stops at all.

  The second is from Christian Nevell Bovee:

“No man is happy without a delusion of some kind. Delusions are as necessary to our happiness as realities.”

  As an aside, while doing some research for a website I am developing for a client I came across some interesting images. I thought I would share these with you.

Riding The Curves With A Friend

  “Hold tight in the turns.”

  That, I believe was the closing line in a recent email from one of this blogs readers. (I don't know for sure because I was unfortunately a little quick with the delete key. I do apologize to this reader. I like to take the time to personally respond to all emails.) Now this may not mean much to those to don't ride a bike, but to those who do corners are an entirely different concept. Why? Counter steering!
  What is counter steering? Don't worry that you don't know because the fact is, even many motor bikers, though they do it every day, don't know what counter steering is. It is probably the most difficult concept for those who teach motorbike drivers courses to explain. The basic concept is this. You steer into the the turn but as you continue the turn, you counter steer, or steer out of the turn as you lean into the turn. This is counter-intuitive to those that don't ride a motorbike but the fact is the more you turn into a corner, the more upright a motorcycle stays. Combine staying upright with the concept of g-force which wants to pull you out of the corner and you find yourself either driving into the other lane of traffic, the ditch, or worse.
  Now add to this formula the loose gravel, pot holes, oil slicks and variety of obstacles that suddenly appear on the ground beneath your wheels as you lean deep into your turn, just encouraging your tires to loose traction and slip out from under you. Of course if you ride that turn truly fearlessly (or like a crazy lunatic depending on your point of view) you can find yourself leaning so far that your foot peg is scraping the ground just seeking out an opportunity to grab hold so your rubber completely removes itself from the road and your leathers (if you are smart) and skin embed into the rough pavement.
  Riding the curves on a motorbike can be exciting, enthralling, exhilarating, exasperating, scary, frightening, bone chilling, and death defying – all at the same time. Riding the curves in life is very much the same experience. You live your life with a final destination in mind (other than death), a goal of sorts. As you head towards your destination every once in a while you find yourself facing a curve in the road that you just have to ride out. You turn it to it, knowing it is taking you off track, so you counter steer, in an effort to get back on path. You might ride that curve a little fast. You might lean into it a little hard. The choice is always up to you on how you ride that curve, and in the end you are either going to find yourself pulling out, or crashing and burning. If you do find yourself pulling out you may find yourself heading in an entirely new direction.
  I recently had one of those curves thrown in my path. I had pretty much decided that I wanted nothing to do with animals anymore. Just as I put that down on paper I received a phone call from someone saying they had got one of my basset hounds from a rescue that had found it wandering the back country a couple hours north of Edmonton. Leaves me wondering what has happened with all the other animals. Anyway, to make a long story short, I have my old friend back and I love it. I won't be rushing out to add more animals to my life but having my old friend back in my life has raised my spirits and given me hope. This is a curve I had to lean hard into but as I pull out of it I am still heading in the same direction, only now I have a friend to accompany me.

Skill

A bit of a step out from my usual blog but I came across a video of a police officer in a motorbike rodeo that demonstrates some incredible skill. I would love to just attempt this course - as long as it wasn't on a bike I would have to repair when it dropped!! Check it out.
Incredible Riding Skill

Motorbike Zen - A New Website

Since starting this blog I have received a lot of email, much of it from perfect strangers. The writers offer words or encouragement, support, and understanding, but much of what I have received lately are from people who have used their motorbikes in their healing process as well. There have been some great stories and it occurred to me that I should not be the only person to hear them so I have created a new website called Motorbike Zen.
If you have a story of motorcycles and healing I encourage you to add it to the website.

Introspection - Two Steps Forward One Step Back

With my birthday imminent I find myself quite introspective. Not that the birthday is any milestone, but at 45 did expect to be at a much different point in my life, and definitely not a mere six months from starting every over again.
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!

Cages & Cagers - Continued

Coffee with a close friend made me realize that my Cagers and Cages blog could use a little expanding. Her situation reminded me of another cage, one not of our own creation, that often closes in our lives, sickness.

This beautiful young woman recently found herself diagnosed with stage 3 cancer involving her kidney, liver, and lymph nodes. The options are simple – cut her open and remove what they can or leave it, because chemo apparently won't touch this cancer. This free spirit had this escape proof cage dropped over her from nowhere and she feels much like any animal would as a cage trapped them and closed around them. Scared. Angry. Bitter. Sad. Worried. All feelings which are cages of their own.
I know it it no real comparison for what my friend is currently facing, but I recently abandoned my motorbike for a couple of days, tired of riding in the rain, and used my van for my daily commute. The feeling of being enclosed in that shell as I drove to work was claustrophobic and smothering. I imagine this is only a small sample of how my friend and others feel when their lives are suddenly closed in by sickness and illness.
Shakespeare wrote “Now is the winter of our discontent, made glorious summer by this sun of York”. As a biker every winter is my winter of discontent as snow and ice keep me off my ride and and in my cage, but I get through it knowing the summer sun will free me once again. For my friend and others like her I wish that a summer sun comes for them, releasing them from their cages.

Cages & Cagers

Cager – according to the Urban Dictionary a popular word among motorcyclists and bicyclists for four wheeled motor vehicle drivers. The term is often used in a derogative sense, because the car body effectively forms a cage, isolating the said driver from having to interact with other road users.  Recent Harley Davidson commercials feautred this concept as a rider cruised through the city streets while everyone around him are locked in their cages.
I recently had the pleasure of an interaction with one of these cagers, driving down the road directly beside me in their hot little sportscar, music blaring so loud the car was bouncing with the base beats, mindlessly switching lanes directly into my side while on my other side a tractor trailer unit blocked my escape options. Behind us cars honked loudly seeing the impending accident but the sportscar driver was oblivious to sounds outside his cage. It wasn't until the sound of my boot against his passenger door echoed in his car that this driver even realized I was there.
My experience isn't unique among bikers unfortunately. It illustrates not only the hazards for bikers, but the way many of us live our lives. In a cage. Often of our own creation. Isolating us from others and from really interacting with the world around us.
These cages can take many forms and we all have one of some sort. Limiting our interactions to individuals of a certain social class, religious belief, or political belief is a cage. Living your life and making decisions based on certain books and theories is a cage. Dressing and decorating based on trends is a cage. If it's not a Harley it's not a real bike is a cage! If it is not a Dodge it is not a real truck is a cage!
All of these cages limit our interactions with others, and limit the way we enjoy and experience life. These cages though, are cages of our own creation that we can easily break out of. There are other cages though that while we may create them or innocently put ourselves in them, they are not so easily broken out of.
How many of us have the bars of our cages formed by debt, and find that cage getting smaller and smaller every day. We enter that debt innocently and with the best of intentions, though more often than not for things we want, rather than need, and regardless of your ability to pay that debt back, it still creates limits on your life, bars on your cage.
Then there are other cages even more severe and limiting. People find themselves in situations of abuse and violence, the bars on their cage created by their desire to appear happy, or preserve their family. Bars so strong that what it takes to break them often destroys the person trapped in that cage.

Age and Beauty!!

  I leaned against the soft leather seat of my Roadstar today at the gas pump, eating a chocolate bar before hitting the road again. The sun glistened of my new wax job and I idly rubbed a smudge on the fuel tank. I watch with interest as an old Ural with a sidecar pulled up to the other side of the pump. The bike was strapped down with gear and and older couple, as well weathered as their ride, climbed of the bike and out of the sidecar and stretched. I couldn't help but admire the old bike and this of course got me talking with its riders.

   The gentleman, a man I think was well into his 70's, happily volunteered every last detail about the Ural and its sidecar. Amazingly he could tell me where every scratch and ding came from and he did so with pride. “That machine is just like me,” he said. “I ain't so pretty myself but every line tells a tale and we earned every one of them.” And those lines, on the bike and the man, did have some amazing tales to tell as I found out when I took the opportunity to join the couple for a coffee.

A WWII Ural and Side Car

   This couple had been on the road since May, taking a ride they took 30 years ago on the same bike to Alaska where they planned to stay for a while. They had been forced to sell their farm in the early spring after a lifetime of farming. The woman, told me how the bankers got most of it and what they didn't get, the neighbours bought up at cents on a dollar at auction. “Never forgive those vultures,” she said quite vehemently.

   The good nature of some people shone through in their story as well. One of their neighbours had purchased that Ural bike and sidecar at the auction. A week later this couple stepped out the door of the house they were renting to find that bike pulling into their driveway, cleaned up and obviously tuned up. The rider climbed off the bike, handed over the helmet and said “she's got a lot of romantic rides left in her and you guys should be taking them.” He was their neighbour for as long as they could remember and he wouldn't take a cent for the bike. He just hopped into the truck his son had followed him in and left.

   “I just hated that man when he got that bike for next to nothing at the auction,” the woman said. “I knew it broke my husbands heart more than loosing the farm. That act though restored our faith in people. It was that day we decided to make this trip again and set our roots somewhere else.”

   The old guy laughed and added “We ain't got much time left in us to set roots, but we're like those funny little Japanese trees that roots are exposed and they are all bent out of shape and all. All that stress and hardship makes those things beautiful.”

   I couldn't agree with him more and watched longingly as they climbed onto their bike and headed North, wishing I could join them on the trip instead of just continuing on my daily commute.  As I continued by my ride home a passage came to mind from a book I had read called Cold Mountain.
I looked up the passage I had bookmarked when I got home.

   You could grieve endlessly for the loss of time and for the damage done therein. For the dead, and for your own lost self. But what the wisdom of the ages says is that we do well not to grieve on and on. And those old ones knew a thing or two and had some truth to tell, Inman said, for you can grieve your heart out and in the end you are still where you were. All your grief hasn't changed a thing. What you have lost will not be returned to you. It will always be lost. You're left with only your scars to mark the void. All you can choose to do is go on or not. But if you go on, it's knowing you carry your scars with you.

   I know I have added more than a few scars to my collection recently and I can only hope that as I carry them with me that they look as good on me as they did on that couple I just enjoyed coffee with. May their ride be safe and fun, and I hope they can bring some joy and wisdom to to others as they have to me.