My dog looks into me and asks why?
At least that’s what I see as I gear up for a ride. He’s witnessed the process many times and still he watches as if with new eyes. There’s a great language in the eyes and though I’m not always an accomplished reader I recognize the power they contain.
When the ride is sweetest, I see the world with new eyes.
Often I feel something before I see it.
I’ll be roaming on the scooter, eyes scanning the road ahead, behind, the landscape through which I’m traveling and I’ll feel a sudden attraction to a place before I recognize a specific scene or subject. It happens more often in nature than riding through man made places.
This morning I parked the Vespa so I could wander through the woods. In a few days hunters will search for deer as I was looking for something different and while I found nothing I sensed how I was seeing a familiar place with new eyes.
Whatever that means.
If I love exploring the road on the Vespa.
But I may appreciate even more the unbinding of my mind made possible by the act of riding.For anyone who lets their mind wander you may appreciate how wildly afield thoughts can range and imagination subdues logic as new connections surface.
Looking at the trees and listening to the water the words “forest primeval” whispered in my head. The camera wasn’t helping and I wasn’t writing or taking notes, just looking, as if with new eyes. Only later during the ride at a stop to buy Kim a birthday present did the words take on meaning as Dan Fogelberg’s song “Longer” play in my head and those words took on meaning. It wasn’t our song or anything but somehow my brain put it all together. Maybe the forest was reminding me of what to get her.
Her gift does have a forest theme.
There is no destination.
Most of the morning was spent meandering along the gravel mountain roads enjoying the mild weather and letting my mind follow along as it would. If my clumsy attempt at description seems to imply a measure of control, especially over my mind, believe me when I say I have little control over where it goes.
And that’s fine.
What am I seeing with new eyes?
As the daylight faded and my eyes wandered over the graying texture of the evening sky I thought about how simple life can seem. The camera can reduce a confusion place midst confusing ideas to a simple composition that belies any truth of a moment and denies the absolute mystery of what we experience.
I look at selfie pictures sometimes and wonder what I’m seeing. Some, many, seem superficial artifacts that are nothing more that mechanical documentation of a moment with no meaning or mystery. And then there are others where the eyes burn in me and through me causing some measure of visceral discomfort as they seek answers to questions that I didn’t ask. The eyes are at work.
Rides on these kind of days are work.
The day ends as does the ride.
The eyes are tired as is the body. The Vespa is safe in the garage as the world fades to black. I don’t pretend to be enlightened or improved by the experiences riding provides. I recognize things happen and I embrace them as I can. Kim says I seem more relaxed than I used to be before I started riding. Maybe the mental gymnastics have a calming effect.
Or maybe I’m just more content when I can see the world over and over again with new eyes.
Good morning Steve.
I just want to let you know how much I enjoy reading your blog as we share something in common.
Earlier this year I purchased through Ebay a 2010 white Vespa GTS 300 Super. It is no doubt a dream come true. I had it transported from Nashville, TN with the help of Haul Bikes. From the time it first arrived, back in July, I have enjoyed every minute I am out and about riding on my scooter. It has opened up for me another whole world of visual and emotonal experiences that I wouldn’t have otherwise. Sharing your own experiences on your Vespa personally speak to both my mind and heart. It helps me stay focused on what is important when I am riding my scooter.
Stay happy and safe.
Karl Stumpf
Reading your comments about your recent acquisition of a Vespa scooter and discovering the magic of riding it reminds me of my own experience that is remarkably similar to yours. And it didn’t take much time until I was asking, “Why did I wait so long?’.
Good luck with your riding and stay safe. I’ll keep sharing whatever insights I discover and if they resonate with you or others that’s a good thing.
Be well!
Steve
The ability to see the familiar with new eyes , overcoming the brain’s insistence that “there’s nothing new here, move along”, is something I’ve tried and mostly failed at.
Like you, I’ve gathered onto my list of photo spots, spaces which once strongly beckoned but now I wonder why go there and leave a warm house.
Like you, though without your thoughtful writing, I’ve found these so familiar spots to provide new angles and perhaps better shots….if one has the will and energy to look and experiment.
I think getting past the quick, dismissive part of me is one of the most difficult things I do. Circumstance has narrowed my riding opportunities so I have more opportunity to practice looking at things more closely. Still, it’s a challenge.
Every now and then, when I go to a familiar place, one I am certain I know everything about, I’m surprised to find something different. Today for instance, I was riding through an area that I have ridden through dozens of times. And suddenly, as if appearing magically like Brigadoon, I see a road that I have never seen before — a little asphalt track leading up out of a narrow valley into the forest.
You never know what’s you’ll find. And there’s always a chance to see a UFO right?? That’s why you need to practice with your camera — to get that once in a lifetime picture.
“The eyes of all wait upon Thee O Lord and Thou giveth
them their meat in due season. Thou openeth Thy hand and satisfieth the desire of every living thing.”
The language used in the Psalms is lovely to see and hear and the thoughts powerful. I always try to accept the idea that “due season” is not my choice…
I wonder if this is part of the reason?
https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Thinking,_Fast_and_Slow
https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dual_process_theory
With the automatic responses part of our makeup tied up with mechanics of riding, the ‘Controlled’ or “system 2” part of our brains are free to wonder where it will. Certainly I don’t see and feel when driving what I see and feel when riding as even the familiar offers up something new with each ride. A photographers eye helps give a new perspective on old scenes. Recently I was with a friend taking images of what was happening around us. When my friend saw the results she said “I saw what you saw but I didn’t see it like this!”
The mind is a fascinating world. Dual process theory is probably beyond what I normally consider on this blog but it does point to how our brains process similar events in different ways with different conclusions. Sometimes I try and reduce living to a simple formula and then something like this presents itself to remind me that we are incredibly complex beings…
I’ve seen examples (sort of) of this at work in photography when I would take a group of students to a location to make photos. Looking at the collective work later you wouldn’t even know they were in the same place. It’s almost as if there is no universal reality.
Junior is thinking “Dad, why can’t you take me with you???”
Then again, a sidecar on the Vespa; would reduce the places
you could venture on only two wheels…
Junior always wants to go and always looks forlorn when he has to stay. I’m impervious to his tricks though. Kim is not. “He looks so sad” is a familiar refrain in our house which is usually followed with the delivery of treats. No wonder Junior has developed “the look”.
Even if I had a sidecar I wouldn’t take Junior (or Lily) along. As with two-wheeled riding, I don’t want to have to worry about anyone else. I’m a selfish rider…
Steve –
This piece brings up quite a few things for me.
– When I’m on the bicycle, just for the ride, these are my “think rides.” I wish I could lay claim to that term, but I got it from a columnist writing for a cycling magazine a few decades back. Sometimes it’s light thinking, sometimes it’s deeper, problem-solving practical, sometimes esoteric and unspecified, but rarely “hard.” And somehow, this doesn’t get in the way of the ride itself, the sensation of motion, the texture of tires on pavement (or momentary lack thereof), warmth or coldness of the air, sweet or acrid scents, bucolic or hard-edged surroundings. One process facilitates the other. Riding the Vespa is a bit different in this regard: things happen a good deal faster, and the stuff i would be a tad more casual about via pedal power (traffic lights/signs, et cetera) obviously require stricter attention. But it’s still a think ride on a slightly less exalted level. This could “rise” with more time in the scooter saddle. I’d like that, a lot.
– I love your dog’s expression. So far, I think our cat, Miranda, has taken a cursory interest in my suiting up just a few times, sweetie that she is. Do our furry companions know something about “beginner’s mind” that we merely intellectualize over? Wish I knew.
– The first of our 60-degree days this week was the first day I took Melody for an extensive fun ride, a shade under twenty miles, taking a route that allowed me to put on a little speed and stretch the Vespa’s legs just a bit, but also explore a few places I was curious about – and maybe get a bit lost. that was a think ride, and there was certainly a song that came to mind: “Dark Hill” by Hinterland:
Racin’ down this dark hill
And the road gets so uneven
I’m trying to lose my way
And I’m doin’ it for a reason
I truly felt myself loosening up, more at ease as the miles added up. When I made a stop alongside the beach, about ten miles out, the quiet was as embracing as it was striking. My appreciation for the peacefulness of wide-open spaces, which has almost always existed, seemed intensified. I can roughly sketch out why, but not for the moment.
– Enlightenment? I don’t think that ride – or any ride I’ve ever taken, motorized or not – has made me cosmically taller, smarter, sexier or whatever this thing is we call “wiser.” But I like to think it’s worthwhile. And it’s fun. I’ll take that.
Think rides — I like that. And your description of the range of thoughts and sensations seems like a perfect reflection of what can happen on a good ride. I have my bicycle in the garage now and have considered taking it out again after not riding for years. The last time my body sobbed as the impact on my inflammatory arthritis made even a short ride excruciating. But perhaps now I should try it again. It certainly would be good for my heart.
I envy you being able to stop at the beach. Of all places I’ve been, the ocean has the most powerful effect. Perhaps it’s the sound, or the openness, but I think if something could lure me away from the Vespa it would be the ocean.
I’m with you about enlightenment — the ride does something, I have fun, it’s worthwhile, but anything more complex happening, I’ll leave that assessment alone.
Thanks for sharing your thoughts and experiences. I really appreciate being able to read them.
Junior looks through sad eyes. Pity he won’t fit in your top box to enjoy what you enjoy so much. Happiness in wind in your face blowing your ears back.
I think Junior would be nervous in a sidecar or on two wheels. Even in the car he’s more content to jump in his crate for the ride rather than stick his head out of the window. He’s a patient beast — he waits for the destination so he can explore. The ride doesn’t thrill him. Maybe he’s worried that he’s going to the vet, or recalls being removed from his birth home in Illinois and the long ride that brought him here. I still feel bad about that even though he is right at home now and is like my shadow.
I often find myself dismissing common running routes that lead from my house and being boring and repetitive and then I remember how 7 months ago I couldn’t even walk 2 feet due to the nerve damage in my legs and I feel grateful that I can get out and enjoy the day no matter where I am running. I think the same applies to your scooter rides. We have so much to be thankful for. 🙂
Yes, we do have a lot to be grateful for and have to always guard against expecting more, better, richer experiences. They come and go as they will despite our own planning.
Lily and I just returned from a walk in State College. I’ve wandered those sidewalks for 43 years now and I’m still excited to see what I’ll see. It’s a far better nighttime walk than wandering the neighborhood here in the dark with our 5 streetlights…
I often think of what I call the calculus of life; considering trends and accumulative results from individual points of information. Understandings of a single point of information from two different perspectives, times, or from another person’s reality add so much more to the complexity as well as depth to some simplicity.
A picture might remind us of a journey or a time or related memories; it could spark thoughts of the future as well. Consider if the picture was taken by another person.
When riding (my scoot is a ’06 Burgman 650) there is the multitasking of a safe ride, and the journey, and the experience of multiple places, and smells, and changing sensations. Even a safe ride is complex; roadway, traffic, light, path, speed, awareness, … Some conditions will change on familiar journeys, but which ones. If the journey is with others another level is added to the experience and complexity.
I too like the ride with time to explore. I am also blessed with an occasional ‘..oh, look, a chicken…’. It’s so hard to slow down sometimes.
I fondly remember a short program on Saturday morning TV in the ’50s? that was popped in between cartoons when a young fellow played an acoustic guitar and sang about “consider all the possibilities…” with pictures and words that were changed with synonyms and homonyms or antonyms.
Ain’t life grand?
Life is grand. There are a lot of things coming together to either makes things good or bad. I suppose we each have to process and make decisions that fit our own needs and desires.
“the calculus of life…” I like that idea.