Love is great. I don’t mean to be overly cheesy here but love is just such an awesome part of out lives. We have love for people, for places, even for activities and objects, things that we hold dear. Love grows, and fades, we find it and lose it, but love has a very special way of imprinting itself on our lives so that even when it’s gone we can recall its power and importance. In this way love has a way of reminding us who we are, who we were, and who we want to be.
Last time I was here I was rambling on, wondering about the connection between Movement and Growth, what it is that encourages us to seek out change through new locations and experiences. I don’t really think I got anywhere with those thoughts but sometimes it’s just about getting the ball rolling. Well here I am, half a world away from home, from my real home in New Hampshire as well as my adopted one in Utah, and little by little I’m starting to gain the some perspective. Perspective of my homes, my place in them, their meaning to me, their gifts and opportunities, as well as their problems and shortcomings. I won’t lie, to me, a lot of the time, the world seems like a fucked up crazy place on the cusp of bursting or burning up. But it’s hard to remove yourself from the world, especially your own, to get the perspective you need to know if this is true, or what can be done about it. Sometimes the easiest way to get a new perspective is to actually step back and walk around to the other side. Travel and perspective go hand in hand, and to sometimes all it takes is a little movement to get the perspective you need to see if things are really as bad as you think, or why, or what might be done to help. Continue reading
What is it about horizons, our need to meet them, to explore what’s beyond? What is it about greener pastures, about breaking out in order to move forward, to improve?
I’m trying something new this summer, and when pressed about it I’m not always able to say exactly why. It’s the right time? Just trying a new path? In many ways what I’m doing now isn’t so different from what I’ve been up to, in others it’s entirely fresh and divergent. Despite all that, when I really ask myself about what’s going on, the words that speak the most to me are opportunity, exploration and growth. Continue reading
Get out alone, into the wilderness, at least a week… Advice spoken by a ture friend that has echoed in my mind over the last few months. Words I’ve known and felt before, but coming from him they sounded like a clear bell that could split the fog. Near the end of the winter, my friend and his wife invited me over for dinner. We shared a simple, delecious meal and then talked. I cried. They offered support and well wishes for the season ahead. The snow began to melt and we parted ways. But the words remained. Continue reading
There are forces at work, some obvious, others invisible, that shape who we are and how we live our lives. Some of them began before we were born: physical forces like blood, brains, genes ; while others have impress their effect as we grow, learn and explore. Both types of forces are important, both can be dominant and change your life in their own ways, but what I want to talk about now is how our reaction to these forces has its own effect, just as powerful as the force itself. Some things we accept, while others we reject. Continue reading
I’ve been absent from this place for some time now. Over the course of the last year my life, and this project, have under gone some pretty drastic change and, quite honestly, I’m still struggling to understand the why, how, and what it means for moving forward. But every day brings new light as they say, and I continue to discover lessons and old wisdom that helps me understand. I don’t know what all this change means for the Nature of Motion, or even myself, but when I re-examine the mission, when I am reminded of all our adventures, challenges, discoveries, the style and satisfaction of our travel, I am heartened and inspired. Really, I just want to get back on the damn bike.
I stoop over, bending like they tell you not to. A dull, warm pain blooms in my lower back. In my hands is a small broom and dustpan I’m using to collect my thoughts. I reach down and sweep together the small pile I’ve collected, pushing them onto the dustpan and then slowly, stiffly standing up straight. I carry the small pile to the trash cautiously, being careful not to move to fast and spill them back upon the floor. I haven’t had a chance to collect my thoughts in a little while, but the pile isn’t as big as I’d expected, and I feel a bit of regret at the fact that it seems like my thoughts didn’t amount to more. I made sure to kneel down and reach far back behind the sofa and under the tables to collect as much as I could, but all that accumulated was this neat little pile in my dustpan. Now I’m paused, standing before the trashcan wondering if any of these thoughts should be saved. I poke through them with my finger but can’t find a single one worth keeping, and tip the dustpan towards the ground to watch the thoughts sift like sand into the trash.