Did I tell you that I have a motorcycle? I bought it last summer. When people ask why I got it, the answer is simple. It is totally a result of a mid-life crisis. This is totally true. But what is a mid-life crisis anyway? Why do we feel at a certain point in our lives that we need something to make us feel more alive. Is it really about looking for the feeling of being younger or is it something else? Are we just looking for something that will make us feel something that we felt at another point in our lives, which just happens to be when we were younger.
The moment that I decided to get a motorcycle, I was sitting in the passenger seat, driving somewhere with my husband and kids. I’m not sure what was going on at that particular moment but it was spring, like it is now, and I was thinking about ways in which we could bring a little more joy into our lives. So I went out, bought a brand new white Harley Davison Street 750 without a motorcycle license (like a crazy person) and signed up for a motorcycle riding course.
The course was AMAZING!!! I felt something that I hadn’t felt in a very long time. I had something else to do and talk about that was a challenge, was not about work, not about kids, not about marriage or any other part of adulting. It was for me! It was all about me!!
I can be in the worse mood that I’ve ever been in in my entire life, and a ride on my motorcycle can shift me out of my head in less time than it takes to get from first to second gear. While I'm putting on my leather jacket, my gloves and my helmet, my body starts to realize that we are entering into the territory of freedom. A pavlovian response, my mood shifts. We are leaving all of the bullshit, all of the stress and all of the expectations behind. There is no room for them on the open road with the bike.
The noise and vibration of the engine soothes me like a lullaby does to a child. I am lulled into a state of peace and tranquility. I feel my lips involuntarily smile as I feel the presence of the birds just above my head. My feet and hands perform a dance to keep me at the right gear and the right speed while I mindfully focus on everything around me to keep me smooth and steady. I had a friend once tell me to ride like everything else on the road was out to kill me. In order to do this, you ride in a state of paying attention to only your surroundings and the bike. All of this has the ability to lift me out of whatever hole I seem to be sinking into. Nothing else seems to be able to do it in quite the same way.
For years my husband wanted a bike. I’d heard too many horror stories and didn’t want him to get hurt. This one day though, I felt like we both needed to feel just a little bit more alive, and if that meant that it was a little bit less safe, then so be it. If I’d known how amazing it was to ride, then I would have started doing it years ago. I would have ignored the fear and the naysayers and I would have just done it.
Riding is similar to the feeling that I felt when I was younger and my uncle used to take us out on the snow mobiles. We’d buzz through the trees and across the lakes, fresh powder flying in your face and frozen air catching your breathe and giving you life. Time stood still. We were alive and free. We were everywhere and nowhere. A meditation practice. A oneness with nature.
Mindfulness didn’t take practice in those days. It flowed through you naturally when you followed through in the activities that brought joy. There was not a lot of sitting around and feeling sorry for yourself. Maybe there was and I’m just focusing on the good times that I remember.
We have the tendency to do that, us human creatures. We have a tendency to look back and long nostalgically for the time. You know that time. The good ‘ol days. The days when you woke up and felt as though your entire life was ahead of you and full of possibility. If you didn’t like the situation that you were in, you stood in your own power and did something about it. You didn’t sit in your fear and worry that you would ruin your entire life if you followed the path that you thought might lead you to passion and excitement. You didn’t fear getting hurt or having your life come to an end. You couldn’t wait to make that move. Was I always successful when I made bold moves in the direction of love or excitement or passion? No. Not always. Not immediately. But I made that move because to stay felt like a dullness and a pain too sharp to bear for a moment longer.
Now though, I tend to sit in my fear and then complain that my life isn’t bringing me enough joy. Enough of a thrill. I catch myself. Guilting, like parents do, about the fact that I have these beautiful creatures that I’ve created should bring all the happiness in the world. But just like you can’t put your happiness on the shoulders of a spouse or boyfriend or any friend or any circumstance, you can’t put it on the shoulders of your children. You love them, they are everything to you. But they aren’t responsible for your happiness. Nothing outside of you is.
You know that feeling that you get when the novelty wears off. The new car, the new job, the promotion, even a new outfit. It doesn’t matter what it is, the excitement seems to always wear off - eventually. I’ve wondered lately if there is such a thing as lasting excitement. Exhilaration that doesn’t fade. Passion that is there for you to enjoy when you are taking a break from your responsibilities and have a moment to reach for it. As I admire the fairy lights shimmering on the surface of the rushing river from the seat of my bike, I start to think that there is. You just have to move away from your the comfort of the cozy little space that you’ve created for yourself, that space that has started to feel stale and dull, and in the direction of your wildest dreams. Towards that thing that makes you feel alive and free.
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