motorcyclemeditation.com

Summer holidays in progress, you can see from the London traffic, cars mostly moving at reasonable speed, congestion spots thinned out like unclogged arteries.

This regular August languor somehow always containing an unexpectedness, being foreign to London’s nature. The buzz and clatter of the giant metropolis evaporated in the summer heat, replaced by eerie quiet. Not so bad as around Christmas, but almost so. On the motorcycle, no need for riding between lanes or grand overtaking, you can just cruise.

The motorcycle also undergoing a transformation. No longer the muscular henchman, ripping into the task, flicking aside obstacles, taming tough journeys. Instead, the steady companion, going wherever bidden, agreeing with everything, relaxed. The beast tamed, awaiting another day to be uncaged.

Proceeding at leisurely pace through Regents Park, surrendering to the mood, no choice but to do so. The diluted city momentum only a temporary deprivation, and temporarily enjoyable as variation.

The motorcycle’s operations again a subject of wonderment. Incredible to be sitting on such a machine, in such a place. Bothered by nobody. The mechanics working without fuss. On tap, immense capability, but in this mood the power all but unused, latent, shorn of pressure or temptation.

Unaccustomed and strange. No objective, no impetus, just being present. A slowly rolling world, passing serenely. Feeling like a leaf suspended in an air current, moving along without sense of effort, just soft sequential sensation.

Stopping at a cafe, parking the motorcycle. Selecting a newspaper, sitting next to the window, occasionally looking up from reading, observing the passing of the world. Sipping from the coffee cup. Once or twice, people looking at the motorcycles, mostly without discernment, unaware of the worlds experienced thereon.

Getting back on the motorcycle, meandering home. All very relaxing, still, looking forward to stronger motorcycle stuff.