Got out to meet Titus for a ride today. On my way I stopped on the walking bridge across the Nashwaak River to watch for a bit and I was talking to myself as I usually do. I was actually talking out loud, so people – if there were any around – could’ve heard me. Then it occurred to me that I had no idea ‘who’ was talking. I don’t know who was talking really, or whom that person was talking to. Who was even listening? Who is the person hearing it? Sam Harris tells a funny story about this. When we are talking to ourselves – why are we talking to ourselves? We already know what we’re thinking – why do we tell it back to ourselves?
It occurred to me that in a way, my life is like a movie that I am both the only director and only audience of. Sometimes the other actors in my movie don’t follow or respond to direction. This can equate to suffering, if you choose to let it. Or not.
The last four photos of this were a bit of an accident. I got down this hill and expected Titus to come barreling down it, which I thought would make for a great photo. He was taking forever to show up, then he appeared – walking. He’d decided to walk a tricky section.
Damn actors, not following direction. What’s one to do?
Out for a nice mixed-surface ride with Andrew and Kelly. Up and over Keswick Ridge, Mactaquac Dam and the St. John River. Some nice views and excellent weather. Oh, and I brought leftover pizza as a snack. Had to soak my knees afterwards in the pool to quiet them down. From my CABC Instagram post:
Got out for a CABC social ride with club members @spoke_n_words and @kelly.lynn.murray today. We attended mass at the Church of the Saint John River by riding up one side of it, crossing, then back the other side. The ol’ St. John has an interesting congregation, a few of which we ran into at an early morning gas station coffee stop where one of the local parishioners kindly offered to ‘roll us a bone’, At 8:44am. Although obviously a truly compassionate and charitable soul, we opted not partake – you know, UCI rules and all. I informed him that I was indeed, high on life, and asked if he’d accepted @gary_fisher as his lord and personal savior. He had not, so I gifted him with my tattered copy of The Rider and we parted in peace – I on my trusty Surly Cross Check – he in his jacked to the sky pick-em-up truck which, I believe, was sporting a pair of truck nuts. We’re all members of the same tribe, us humans, even if we fly different flags. The weather, views, and conversation were sublime and Kelly even managed to avoid any untoward confrontations with mutant canines. Perhaps the ‘off-piste-de-resistance’ was a delicious repast of some left-over pizza I’d brought with, which, if I’m not mistaken, is the official ride food of the gods. I arrived home feeling saintly, purified, transformed and indeed, saved. I immediately baptized my knees in the icy waters as they were completely full of hellfire and damnation. Some of this is true, some myth – use your divine inspiration to determine which is which. Hallelujah brothers and sisters, can I get an amen?
Took a ride with Titus out the Lincoln Trail and Post Road to our Fredericton Junction coffee spot. We voiced cartoon voices along the way for all the animals we encountered (because Saturday Morning Cartoons, right?) which consisted of bald eagles, a heron, squirrels, ducks, turkey vultures, sheep, a goat, and various dogs. You know when you’re in the Clubhouse before the ride in the morning and it’s still dark out it’s going to be a good day. Post-ride snacks were excellent.