You were there a minute ago, right?
Maybe it was actually and year or two, or ten, since you really saw it, but you can’t be that far away…. can you?
I’m not going to get all ranty-pant philosophical on yo’ asses but I just want to flag a little something I discovered recently.
You are still there.
You. Are. Still. There.
You may need to scratch off a little snot and unidentifiable crusty stuff, pry off some clinging fingers – both big and small, and dust off your sparkle but you’re still there…. and you are as sparkly as ever.
I was really flippin’ lucky recently to be able to give myself the gift of four days on my own. Not everyone can do that for a whole whoop of shitty reasons, both real and imagined, but where I was, or how long I was there for is not the important part of this spiel.
The important part is this….. I borrowed a pushy.
Yep, a bike.
When was the last time you rode a bike?
Not for exercise, not a stationary one next to 20 other sweating, groaning people, but rode a bike for pleasure?
You don’t like bikes?
I got a damned flat tyre two kilometres from home and had to walk the stupid thing home in the dark fending off mosquitoes and cursing under my breath because the floaty effects of my cocktail was wearing off.
I borrowed another one the next day and….Hell, I don’t really even think the bike is the important part of the story…..
The important part is this….. I felt the wind in my hair, but I don’t really think the hair part is especially important if you happen to be follicly challenged.
There was an empty road.
Tall grass swaying gently in the breeze on either side and just an expanse of pock-marked asphalt in front of me.
The sky was blue with a few of those big, fluffy cumulo-whatsit clouds above and there was nothing there but me and my pushy bumping along the road.
And the wind in my hair.
And on my cheeks.
And in the gentle smile that sat upon my lips.
I could have been anywhere. I felt like I was everywhere.
This little road off the track in Northern NSW was for a moment somewhere exotic, somewhere sensual, somewhere nomadic.
It was here, in this place, alone with just the sound of the birds and the insects and the thoughts in my brain that I realised –
I’m still here.
I wasn’t hiding all along.
I was just busy and forgot where I put me down.
Everyone’s life is very busy, and we all shoulder great responsibility – that’s just life…. but in the rush and weight of our days and months we sometimes forget to remember who we are.
I think I could find that road in many places, because it was a feeling.
It was peace. Joy. Liberation.
I fill myself up with people and I forget to just sit and be, because those moments where you are quiet that when you can remember you and discover that underneath all of the costumes we wear every day –