forward movement and the human spirit

One of my first couple motorcycle rides, clinging on the backseat, ducked low, going 85 through the woods at night… my hair flicking and stinging my face was a telltale of the danger. And in that, the revelation of true freedom. What I only imagine it might feel like right before death, when one is prepared for it. Being alive with every bit of yourself becomes the antithesis of fearing death. The feeling that there is nothing to lose, because nothing is ours to keep.

The headlight was a white light shooting out of our center, cutting as best it could, the unseen before us. All my fears, worries and problems were dying flames trailing behind me. As when you move a candle too fast for the fire to keep up. I could feel it nipping at me, but unable to hold. And I was free of them.

Whether it is flying on a motorcycle, or creeping in a daily routine, just move forward. In some way, always forward.

 sketch by the bone horse