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
(notes from the voices in my head)