When I got a garden near my house, I stopped going to the community garden space I’d been frequenting. I’d started living closer to home, and biking to the grocery store and the coffee shop I like to work in, but nothing regular like that three-times-a-week trip to the garden.  And I started to notice something was missing from my life.

That trip to the garden involved a nice stretch of bike path. I don’t know about where you live, but my bike path goes along the beautiful Willamette (pronounced will-AM-it, believe it or not). Trees, grass, flowers, laughing people, curious babies, and water… I love water! It feels like the stuff my soul is made of (of course I know my soul is made of love-energy… but do I have to choose?).

So I decided to make it a point to ride on the bike path anyway. Who says I have to take the most direct route? It’s amazing how many questions have this same answer: Follow your heart. Follow the love.

This morning I wanted to head off to the store to get my grown kid some food to take for the day. It was cool, the air was crisp and moist, but not wet or rainy. I loved the feeling of the air on my skin, and the world moving past at a speed I can relate to. (That’s one of my favorite things about biking.)

As a car passed me on my quiet street, I remembered my zen teacher telling us once, with a laugh, how it’s really cool when firetrucks go by when you’re meditating. “I love that. It rocks!” It’s only a problem, really, if you are attached to something like your vision of what “quiet” is, or what “focus” is. But doesn’t real presence accept what is?

So I count this as meditation. I watched my breath, watch the sound of tires on road, watch the rush of a car passing, watch the fog hovering, like it was trying to decide whether to evaporate or condense. Just watched.

But one thing I notice is that I get to experience the world more directly from a bike. In a car, you’re insulated from the world, and from what you’re doing. You can let your mind wander, forget that you’re driving.

But on a bike, you’re sort of automatically mindful. You’re right there where the road or path is. You feel the rain on your face. You see the small things. It’s a great way to be here, now.

I learned something about good days yesterday, though. See, I ride a couple of miles to my community garden space, and when I have to go uphill, I often barely (baaaaaaaarely) make it in first gear. Yesterday, I went over the hill in my highest gear. In fact, I rode the whole way in my highest or second-highest gear. I never used anything under 6 (out of 7).

That’s the only thing that told me I was having a good day. I was happy that I’d decided to bike, thinking I wasn’t being as lazy as usual, but I didn’t recognize that the day was any different until I noticed how easy it was to bike. In fact, my first thought was that the bike, or the weather, or the roads were different. “Did I fill up the tires?” I just don’t consider the possibility that my body doesn’t work sometimes. I had decided (on the bad days) that it was the ride that was difficult, rather than my body not working.

You might wonder why I share things like this. It’s because I figure that there are other people out there living in denial, and reading about how thick-headed I am might just help them open their eyes. :) And, I suppose, I hope it’ll help me remember as well.

The good news is that I’m learning things. I think it’s taken me this long to get the big lesson through my head, the one about taking care of myself.

I thought I was getting it, but only recently have I really been able to set aside my obligations and go to bed if I need to, or even go sit by the river and watch the geese. In my old life, that would have counted as “wasting time” and “goofing off.” Now, sometimes it’s the only hope I have today of being well enough to work tomorrow.

So no Karate for now. My new love is my bike. And it hardly hurts at all to ride. ;)