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When most people go to worship or meditate in the churches, mosques, temples, or zendos of their choice in order to address their God in heaven or the God within, I get on my bicycle and venture out on a long ride with a circle of loved and trusted friends.

Good friends, good laughs, beautiful Yabnong and Ugo trails, great ride.
It may seem like we're having too much fun swooping down a heavenly single track trail; we may appear to be overly obsessed with proving a macho point by pedaling hard up a steep climb; or, as often happens, we come across as just plain idiotic and irreverent when we're clowning around during rest stops.

But when we cycle far enough away from our daily lives I believe we are gifted, in one moment of pedaling, with a flash of oneness with the world at large. I feel completely present in one place, in that time, in my body, in that one revolution of the pedals. When that happens, I remember how small I am in the grand scheme of things.

A dot on two wheels in life's tiny deaths and great rebirths.
Bicycling through the mountains is like putting oneself in the great palm of God's hand.

Yup. Even when our aspirations are as base as an ice cold beer at the end of the trail.


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