My server finally approached and I couldn't help but remark on how beautiful he was. My GOD man, I don't even look that pretty when I'm wearing a push-up bra and an airbrushed face! He was so pretty that I felt like having sex with him would make me a lesbian and I was instantly dissuaded from objectifying him. He acknowledged my helmet, asked me what I rode, and before I could fully answer, erupted into a story about how he crashed his R1, with a passenger on the back who was wearing "Really short shorts!" and they both walked away unscathed. Any other day, within the last couple of years I would have pitched forth a lecture. Today, however, I was on an adventure... and I didn't care aside from the fact that he had learned his lesson and praised God for the luck of his passenger.
I ordered a cheeseburger and realized that, at 4:45 in the afternoon, it was the first real meal I had in the day aside from the two bites I took of a slice of cold pizza, and the strips of beef jerky I had munched on intermittently throughout my stops. I scarfed down half of it, and ordered a growler of the Odin Stout to go; figuring that it would make a lovely homecoming reward when I finally made it back home.
Once I left the place, I was greeted by a couple who had been admiring my bike. He wanted a bike, she didn't want him to get a bike, and he solicited my professional opinion in consoling her concerns. This happens to me a lot. I'm not sure why. It's as if somehow, the opinions of a female sportbike rider are that much more supportive than those of some dude. Okay. Now that I think about it, there is actually probably might be some merit in that.
They were polite and grateful for my feedback as they wandered off. I made my way back onto the highway with a slightly readjusted backpack that was now a few pounds heavier, but I didn't mind. I topped off at the gas station and decided to head for home. I knew it was gonna be a long ride but this stretch of road is mostly sweepers and some straights and while I knew I'd be riding it at night, I really didn't mind the thought of it that much.
While riding up the 101 to catch 166 the thoughts came back in a rushing wave. I felt better this time, my heart was lighter. I had accepted that I need to let go. I had accepted that I needed to stop making an us issue out of what is clearly now my life from this point forward. This whole trip had been a re-introduction to my own life as me living without someone who may or may not have ever been up to the task of sharing a life with me in the first place. All of it was speculative though, and I had to let it go. I had to let it all go and start re-defining the terms by which I plan to live the rest of my life.
At that very moment, Florence and the Machine came on in my ear, erupting into a soulful howl of beautiful desperation and angst. In the foreground of a crescendo of thundering drums, dramatic deep violins and singing words that seemed to reach into my soul and bring my feelings to life:
You want a revelation
You wanna get it right
But it's a conversation
I just can't have tonight
You want a revelation
Some kind of resolution
You want a revelation
No light, no light in your bright blue eyes
I never new daylight could be so violent
A revelation in the light of day
You can't choose what stays and what fades away
I'd do anything... to make you stay
No light, no light...
Everyone goes through this. It is one of the more unfair aspects of life. There are at least a million songs written in every genre of music by people who process their heartbreak through their creativity. Using their instruments; be it the pen, the guitar, or the piano as a medium for cathartic release. We are all human and we live our lives on loosely defined terms, buying into social norms and unfounded, unrealistic expectations; winging it as we go and finding reasons to regret when we should be finding reasons to grow. When we find ourselves rigidly clinging to those terms even in light of new developments of truth is when we find ourselves in trouble; at risk of becoming stagnant ghosts of our own past.
For this reason, we owe it to ourselves to pursue the truth even when it hurts. To accept reality, even when it no longer benefits us; and to let go when the purpose has been served or the cause has been lost.
The truth may not always feel great, but it will certainly set you free.
For this reason, we owe it to ourselves to pursue the truth even when it hurts. To accept reality, even when it no longer benefits us; and to let go when the purpose has been served or the cause has been lost.
The truth may not always feel great, but it will certainly set you free.
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