motorcyclemeditation.com

Cruising down the motorway on the motorcycle, best place to be after a difficult night. Two aged relatives in terminal decline, one with dementia, cared for by her husband, he taking ill and rushed to hospital. Suchlike scenes common in the world and getting more so. The crisis affecting those close to me rather than me directly, but still harrowing.

The resultant tiredness calling for a special type of motorcycling skill, bringing forth first the question of whether you should be riding at all. A question that arises frequently and routinely requires the answer, yes, go ahead. Or ought to, except in the event of alcohol or snow. Otherwise you end up cowering at home all the time, frightened off by the thought of a gust of wind. The aged relatives with their geriatric disorders, a sufficient reminder of the need to do things while you can.

But once on the motorcycle, being aware of the need to behave differently. The cold clear calculation, I’m not responding as I normally do, this situation is exerting psychic drag, ergo, not a day for aggression or jauntiness. Besides not in the mood. Rather, keep everything smooth and rhythmic and circumspect.

A major requirement during family emergencies, don’t join in the clamour, stay unruffled. Concerned and sympathetic, yes, hysterical, no. A long night ahead and many more beyond. The plight admitting of no early answers. The enemies, exhaustion and squabbling. Sitting on the motorcycle in the clear day’s light, thinking, probably got it right, no clever solutions proposed, no amateur analyses, no taking sides. Best try to stick to that, aim for the steady line amidst the buffeting, like on a motorcycle.

Even remote from the crisis, the least important person, still with responsibilities, mostly, stay strong and even tempered, this isn’t going to go away. The key to such strength, a gentle reversion to your own personal normality. On the motorcycle, sweet normality breaking through. The simple mechanical propulsion, the clean motion, the uncluttered solitude of the ride, ironing out mind’s crinkles.