I raise the garage door, thick with spiderwebs from the night’s arachnid frenzy, and let the sun enter the darkened space. My bike glints in the light. A little air in the tires, my helmet strapped on and I’m ready to go–out into the morning.
The steep driveway opens into a steeper road and I am launched into the world. What a way to greet the day! The night dampness still hanging in the air, the morning sun just beginning to warm, the dew not quite dry in the grass, the earth is just waking up. And so am I. This loop around the lake is both familiar and new each day, the route solidly ingrained in my interior map. My ipod playlist labeled “biking” varies only in the shuffle but never gets old. The familiarity of the route and of the music provide a rhythm to my ride while allowing my mind to find the new. And every day I do.
This ride, a moving prayer, is sacred to me. The meditative undercurrent of body and bike working as one provide a deep soulful rhythm. The familiar route captivates, day after day offering a new set of images which sink deep into my skin. An aged man offers a weather-beaten hand to a child as she places her tiny feet carefully along the mossy shoreline. Men and women, faces worn with time and care, are setting up to fish–rolling all of their supplies in aged wheeled carts, making their way to favorite spots along the piers. I hear their quiet voices as they greet one another and the day. A man in a torn sleeping bag wakes and squints into the sunlight, his arm raised to block the rays. These are the faces of the world I greet and that greets me as I ride. A movement in the weeds catches my eye and I glimpse the head of a great blue heron as it catches its morning meal. A woman practicing Tai Chi moves fluidly as I pedal by. Fisherman talk in low tones in tiny boats just offshore.
On through neighborhoods I ride smelling breakfast cooking, hearing voices greeting one another, talking through their days, sharing news. I nod as I pass people walking their dogs and their children, enjoying the fresh morning air. The brilliance of the colors and light, the sounds and smells are almost too much to take. This world saturates with all that it has to offer and when I feel full, like my cup has reached its brim, I see even more and something in me overflows. Music. Light. Life in all of its beauty and imperfection.
Setting words to this prayer in motion all that comes to mind is “thank you.” But that is enough. I am grateful for the obvious–my bike and the energy to ride it–but even more, for the eyes to see and the heart to appreciate this intensely beautiful world, in both its darkness and light. And even more, to be filled to overflowing by it.