Moments — dead and living

A short time ago I bumped into someone I had not seen for a while and he asked me what has been happening — it was one of those questions that invites the broadest of context. As I weaved a meandering reply I could not help but mention my sister's death, the death of two dear friends, the death of my mother, an uncle, a good friend's mother, and summed it all up with how an other uncle is coming to the end of his "fight with cancer".

There was an audible chuckle as I pointed out that I was a real ray of sunshine. I then went on to mention, "Life is for the livin'" — of late, it seems to be the season for this kind of conversation.

Life is for the livin'.

This has become my mantra when dealing with the dead — with great respect to the departed I find myself offering this up to anyone who will listen (including myself) and then move forward, sometimes (sadly) never to look back.

I am deliberate about dropping the "g" when I say it... not because I want to disguise a trite utterance of the obvious, but because I believe at these times the word needs to be used as a verb. A reminder that livin' is about action, progress, and embracing life to the fullest because it's so very finite — we will all know death soon enough.

And with that said, I need to trek Patagonia soon — after all, life is for the livin'. 

iamgpe

PS: I know I am taking some artistic liberty when I say "livin'" is not only an actual word, but is a verb. Why not though? Isn't that what life is for?

Knock on wood...

There is something that comes with getting a song stuck in your head, which is to say that it mostly stays there until it's good and ready to move on — you find yourself humming and whistling to yourself (and others), listening to it and watching it endlessly on YouTube, and you spend an inordinate amount of time trying to understand the meaning and philosophies behind the lyrics.

Have you ever been close to tragedy
Or been close to folks who have?
Have you ever felt a pain so powerful
So heavy you collapse? No?
Well I've never had to knock on wood
But I know someone who has
Which makes me wonder if I could
It makes me wonder if
I've never had to knock on wood
And I'm glad I haven't yet
Because I'm sure it isn't good
That's the impression that I get

The Mighty Mighty Bosstones

I have no intention to deconstruct the lyrics of the song "The Impression That I Get" by The Mighty Mighty Bosstones but do suggest you listen to it for no other reason than it is really, really catchy. If you are willing though, the song does allude to looking in the mirror and asking yourself how you will deal with some of the tougher aspects of life when they come your way (and they will) — as Jim Morrison said, "No one here gets out alive". I saw my uncle recently who is struggling with stage four lung cancer so maybe there is a little transference going on here, but it doesn't make the question any less valid as to how we face what will be surely difficult.

Sure you can prepare yourself or believe that you are prepared, but you will never really know until you are in the shit — as Mark Twain said, "A man who carries a cat by the tail learns something he can learn in no other way". Sure you can work really hard not to pick up that cat but once in a while someone just hands it to you; there is nothing else to be done but deal with it (scratches and all). You have no choice but to move into the breech.

In the end you learn about resilience, character, under appreciated abilities, the concepts of wisdom and understanding, and if you are lucky, you realize the best outcome possible. And then you move on, forever changed.

Knock on wood.

iamgpe

PS — It seems the song has moved on.

CLIMBING THE HILL ... an analogy.

After being told we were part of something that raised $20.5 Million to help cure cancer in our lifetime, 5,044 of us got on our bikes and began a ride 219 kilometres over two days.

As the motivation of being part of something bigger than yourself starts to fade and the riders thin out, you settle into a rhythm as you make your way along the route. There is always someone around you... another rider or someone on the side of the road cheering you on, but ultimately you are left with your thoughts as you pedal — Pedals always turning.

The road is always in front of you; straight away; turning; rolling... and It inevitably brings you to that steep hill, because there is always a steep hill it seems.

You see it. The other riders see it. Every rider prepares for it in his or her own way. If you know it is coming you may be able to get some momentum and optimize your gearing to get the most of it. For those not so fortunate, you see the hill for the first time and have to react as quickly as you can to determine the best gear to get through the climb.  Ultimately, all must commit to a gear — Pedals always turning.

With head down, you focus on pedalling until you are either at the top of the hill or until you are unable to pedal anymore — Pedals always turning.

You can hear the sound of riders trying to gear down to ease the strain and fail; can hear riders cursing because someone can pedal no more and stops in front of them; can only watch through the corner of your eye those riders who surrender to the hill and start walking — Pedals always turning. With progress being made, lungs gasping for air, legs burning, and the spectre of simply stopping in your ear, you continue — Pedal always turning. It becomes simple willpower that keep the pedals always turning.

And then you are at the top. You made it. It is enjoyable being on your bicycle again. You continue the ride knowing the hill is behind you and you are better for climbing it.

Pedals always turning.

A shoutout to my riding buddies John and Kevin, I appreciate you guys riding up the hill with me. Our honorary captain Mike got sidelined this year, but I know he will join us next year because his pedals are always turning.

iamgpe

PS: As a final note, hills have nothing on the fuckin' headwind.