Sometimes we just can’t get out of our own way. This has been me for more of 2010 than probably even I know. I plan and strategize, set goals and always it seems I’m thwarted at every turn. Then the grumbling, complaining and moaning to friends beings, while I point the finger to others as the source of what plagues me. Then one day came words my way that I readily rejected; “whatever you are feeling about a situation is all coming from inside of you.” What the heck?
From that moment on it seemed I had my very own personal life coach, who was soon the next person my finger enjoyed pointing too. Never-the-less, the audio books continued to arrive and I listened dutifully back and forth on my long commutes to work. The months went on endlessly without any light for my troubles at the end of the tunnel, and all the pretty words flowing from the car stereo sounding to me like a load.
Then a funny thing happened on the way to work one day. I was listening to Stephen Covey’s “The 7 habits of Highly Effective People” and something clicked on inside my head. Stephen was saying some very interesting things indeed. I listened to this book three more times and then received a hard copy from the life coach for my very own. One of the most cherished bits of wisdom that I gleaned from Stephen is helping me understanding myself better, and what makes those closest to me tick. For from the very center of who we are flow our perceptions of what is around us. Or in other words “whatever I am feeling is all coming from inside of me.”
I could go on all day about Stephen Covey, but then I wouldn’t have time to tell you about Shawn Achor and his book “The Happiness Advantage.” Again this audio book was listened to several times and then the hard copy came to reside on my desk right along with “The 7 Habits.” Interestingly enough, Shawn too has 7 principles; 7 principles of positive psychology that is helping me turn and see the positive aspects of the events of my life. Have I stopped grumbling? No not yet, but the grumbling is shorter. My inner eyes grow tired of the perceived complaint and I begin looking around me for the “path up.”
One of the simplest suggestions that I took to heart is keeping a gratitude list. I’m sure you’ve heard this one a million times. I did too, yet never have I practiced this until now. At the urging of my personal life coach I began a gratitude list. At first we exchanged a few items with each other daily. It seems forced a bit, and then the words began to flow more naturally. I’m realizing something else too in the words of a Chinese saying my friend likes to spout often. “The best time to plant a tree is 20 years ago. The next best time is now.”
If you are thinking 2010 had nothing worth taking with you into the future, start your own gratitude list and be faithful to it. You will be surprised at what you come away with. Because for everything we believe is fact, there is a counter fact; one we can all be grateful for and hold in our hearts. I’m stepping into 2011 better for it. Thank you 2010 for all the life lessons and as you wave me into 2011 hold on to your hat, because you ain’t seen nothing yet!
Friday, December 31, 2010
Sunday, November 28, 2010
The Knowing and the Doing
I roll Blaze up the ramp for the last time this season. It is always a bittersweet moment. Images swirl like a vortex, complete with flashes of light as the neurons fire across the memories of the season’s travels. I look at Blaze affectionately and see each inch of her as I inspect how she fared this year. For me, Blaze has a personality all her own, and so unlike Jade. Like each of us, she is an individual unto herself. Strong, steady, sure. She’s calm amidst crazy traffic, sure “footed” on rain slick hardtop and pebble strewn gravel. She’s powerful, yet has no need for public antics. Responsive, gentle, steady and kind to her rider’s backside; qualities that at first sound understated, but upon reflection hold a value like none other. She’s been good to me, and I return the favor. Sta-Bil for the gas tank, removal of the battery to keep protected indoors on trickle charge, cleaned, lubed, and covered. It’s the best available under our circumstances. Yet, though it doesn’t seem enough, I know she will fire on the first try come spring. It’s who she is.
Last year at this time, I was intent of crafting a route for our Maine Lighthouse Tour; scanning the internet, generating GPS coordinates and mapping out possible routes. The planning was almost as fun as the trip itself. My mind is now on to next season. Where shall we go? Andy has always wanted to do Sturgis; while I’m not opposed, I have to consider our time-off restrictions. Then there is the copy of RoadRunner’s Riding America’s Backroads. There are several possibilities here, all need examination and consideration. The book has an abundance of great destinations, and attractive photography to lure the wanderer in anyone. It will be my companion through the long cold winter months ahead.
For now, I’m content to scroll through the photos of this past season. I’m amazed at the places we’ve been, and the miles we’ve logged. My other love tugs at me too. I know there is a book here. A book unlike any I’ve read. A book not just of destinations, photos and routes, but what is inside each of us when we travel by motorcycle; the physical and philosophical. What touches our hearts, awakens our senses, gives up pause, and all wrapped up is the gratitude that we go, experience, arrive and return; with returning unscathed at the top of the list. For while we motorcyclists know full well there are dangers always close at hand, and we do what we can to minimize them, always we should give consideration to our motorcycle safety training. We all know for example what is good for us; eating healthy, alcohol in moderation, exercise. However, as is human nature, the knowing is not always the doing. With motorcycle safety, we must always be doing as the knowing is never enough. As this season closes, and especially at this time of year, join me in being thankful for not only the knowing, but the doing.
Last year at this time, I was intent of crafting a route for our Maine Lighthouse Tour; scanning the internet, generating GPS coordinates and mapping out possible routes. The planning was almost as fun as the trip itself. My mind is now on to next season. Where shall we go? Andy has always wanted to do Sturgis; while I’m not opposed, I have to consider our time-off restrictions. Then there is the copy of RoadRunner’s Riding America’s Backroads. There are several possibilities here, all need examination and consideration. The book has an abundance of great destinations, and attractive photography to lure the wanderer in anyone. It will be my companion through the long cold winter months ahead.
For now, I’m content to scroll through the photos of this past season. I’m amazed at the places we’ve been, and the miles we’ve logged. My other love tugs at me too. I know there is a book here. A book unlike any I’ve read. A book not just of destinations, photos and routes, but what is inside each of us when we travel by motorcycle; the physical and philosophical. What touches our hearts, awakens our senses, gives up pause, and all wrapped up is the gratitude that we go, experience, arrive and return; with returning unscathed at the top of the list. For while we motorcyclists know full well there are dangers always close at hand, and we do what we can to minimize them, always we should give consideration to our motorcycle safety training. We all know for example what is good for us; eating healthy, alcohol in moderation, exercise. However, as is human nature, the knowing is not always the doing. With motorcycle safety, we must always be doing as the knowing is never enough. As this season closes, and especially at this time of year, join me in being thankful for not only the knowing, but the doing.
Sunday, November 14, 2010
“There is a season and a time for every purpose under Heaven” *
As Blaze fell in behind her partner to enjoy an unseasonably warm November day, little does she realize where she is taking her rider this day. From my vantage point in the saddle, it is a fender pointer only. The lead rider’s whim is the only compass we use. We head for the roads less traveled, and find our way via quiet back doors to surrounding towns. In an instant, the images of times long past begin flashing like a video documentary across the movie screen in my mind.
We ride backward from my teenage years to my childhood. The time it took to live these years, now feel as fleeting as the afternoon ride. The first inclination that I’m dropped so suddenly and unexpectedly into the past, is the tingle traveling up and down my spine when we drop into New Boston by way of Joe English Hill. We pass Molly Stark Lane, where my best high school friend spent her own childhood. Memories wash over me of the good times we had together, and the pranks we pulled on others. The faces of other friends flash across my minds viewing screen, and I am again feeling the joys and sorrows we experienced back then.
Me and Karyn
The experiences then were all so new; a time when emotions would swing from tender to raw. We take a turn and follow Mountain Road along the Uncanooics past where the old boyfriend used to live. The tender moments remembered are sweet; the first infatuation, the intensity of our first love. Yet the raw continues to be raw, when remembering how we first faced death and began to understand for the first time that nothing here is guaranteed. I wonder what kind of people those who left us early would have grown to become.
We pass the high school and ride toward my childhood home. The faces I am now remembering are younger and more innocent. Our carefree play along neighborhood streets flood back, and as we near the old neighborhood, I bid Andy to turn right on Plummer. I have not been here since my parents sold the house many years ago. We stop our bikes and sit examining every inch of this transformed home. It’s larger now and expanded; yet with the extra living space, comes a price. The pear tree and apple tree have been sacrificed. The three season porch which I so enjoyed on warm summer days no longer exists. Yet, I can still smell the apple blossoms, and hear the buzzing bees busy at the fruit that has dropped beneath the pear tree.
Our Childhood Home
Andy comments that the railing at the front door looks original. And yes, so it is, and I am once again standing on the stoop with my siblings in our Easter outfits, having our photo taken. I know I am chuckling out loud now remembering those Easter hats that were so mandatory back in the day. One photo in particular comes to mind in which I am six years old. I don’t look too happy in this photo, as I want church and photo over with so as to dive into the Easter basket. Some priorities never change.
Yet our journey is not yet over. We visit Manchester’s West Side, my mother’s own childhood home and loop our way to Auburn and Chester and finally Derry where Dad spent his youth. We take a right on Wyman to where my Aunt and Uncle once lived. My brother lives here now, yet I haven’t been inside since he’s owned it, and it’s been many years since my feet have crossed the threshold. As I do, I’m a kid again here for a family gathering. My Aunts and Uncles voices like white noise in the background, as we kids get busy playing with cousins or walking out with fists full of chips or cookies. It is here that I first experience the concept of home movies. Uncle is holding a camera but I’m instructed to walk around as the end picture will be motion and not still. What a concept!
Me and a few siblings with some Derry cousins.
We head for home with the setting sun blinding us to our path, and we need to take great care for our safety. Yet despite the concentration it takes to ride westward into the setting sun, the analogy is not lost on me. I too am making my way to a sunset. We all are, it is the human condition. While the ride may seem happenstance to some, it does not feel so to me. There are reasons for events and I believe there are no coincidences. The young girl of so long ago is with me still. I wonder about her path and what lead her here to her present. Is she using all her gifts? Is she applying all her power? Is she giving away too much? Does she love fully, care deeply, forgive easily and make the most of her circumstance? I will be holding these thoughts in my mind. My journey continues and I still have time to bring the girl fully to the person she was meant to be.
*Ecclesiastes
We ride backward from my teenage years to my childhood. The time it took to live these years, now feel as fleeting as the afternoon ride. The first inclination that I’m dropped so suddenly and unexpectedly into the past, is the tingle traveling up and down my spine when we drop into New Boston by way of Joe English Hill. We pass Molly Stark Lane, where my best high school friend spent her own childhood. Memories wash over me of the good times we had together, and the pranks we pulled on others. The faces of other friends flash across my minds viewing screen, and I am again feeling the joys and sorrows we experienced back then.
The experiences then were all so new; a time when emotions would swing from tender to raw. We take a turn and follow Mountain Road along the Uncanooics past where the old boyfriend used to live. The tender moments remembered are sweet; the first infatuation, the intensity of our first love. Yet the raw continues to be raw, when remembering how we first faced death and began to understand for the first time that nothing here is guaranteed. I wonder what kind of people those who left us early would have grown to become.
We pass the high school and ride toward my childhood home. The faces I am now remembering are younger and more innocent. Our carefree play along neighborhood streets flood back, and as we near the old neighborhood, I bid Andy to turn right on Plummer. I have not been here since my parents sold the house many years ago. We stop our bikes and sit examining every inch of this transformed home. It’s larger now and expanded; yet with the extra living space, comes a price. The pear tree and apple tree have been sacrificed. The three season porch which I so enjoyed on warm summer days no longer exists. Yet, I can still smell the apple blossoms, and hear the buzzing bees busy at the fruit that has dropped beneath the pear tree.
Andy comments that the railing at the front door looks original. And yes, so it is, and I am once again standing on the stoop with my siblings in our Easter outfits, having our photo taken. I know I am chuckling out loud now remembering those Easter hats that were so mandatory back in the day. One photo in particular comes to mind in which I am six years old. I don’t look too happy in this photo, as I want church and photo over with so as to dive into the Easter basket. Some priorities never change.
Yet our journey is not yet over. We visit Manchester’s West Side, my mother’s own childhood home and loop our way to Auburn and Chester and finally Derry where Dad spent his youth. We take a right on Wyman to where my Aunt and Uncle once lived. My brother lives here now, yet I haven’t been inside since he’s owned it, and it’s been many years since my feet have crossed the threshold. As I do, I’m a kid again here for a family gathering. My Aunts and Uncles voices like white noise in the background, as we kids get busy playing with cousins or walking out with fists full of chips or cookies. It is here that I first experience the concept of home movies. Uncle is holding a camera but I’m instructed to walk around as the end picture will be motion and not still. What a concept!
We head for home with the setting sun blinding us to our path, and we need to take great care for our safety. Yet despite the concentration it takes to ride westward into the setting sun, the analogy is not lost on me. I too am making my way to a sunset. We all are, it is the human condition. While the ride may seem happenstance to some, it does not feel so to me. There are reasons for events and I believe there are no coincidences. The young girl of so long ago is with me still. I wonder about her path and what lead her here to her present. Is she using all her gifts? Is she applying all her power? Is she giving away too much? Does she love fully, care deeply, forgive easily and make the most of her circumstance? I will be holding these thoughts in my mind. My journey continues and I still have time to bring the girl fully to the person she was meant to be.
*Ecclesiastes
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