I have always been a bike enthusiast. A ten speed allowed me to see the world dressed in its Sunday’s best it became a blur of greenery passing by, like an impressionistic painting as I floated along effortlessly. I can recall the feeling of independence fueling me along. I felt it’s essence propel me, coming out of my fingertips and feet, the bike and I were one. The transcendent feeling washed over me, like a surfer hanging ten at the top of the crest.
The baptism of spirit as I allowed the energy to move in an out and and around and slide down. This was no illusory mishap. There was and is an union between the spirit and the universe. The meditative state was one of grace. The bike was where I witnessed the world not as a observer, but as a participant; aware and present. No one could interrupt the meditative state that I participated in for the moment. I was encapsulated in my own existence. Seeing the world from a new wiser perspective is delicious, aging just because a new chapter in a really good book and I enjoy each and every day that the universe rewards me with.