Whether you’re keeping a journal or writing as a meditation, it’s the same thing. What’s important is you’re having a relationship with your mind.
— Natalie Goldberg
Christmas morning, a short ride through the valley, alone on the road with my thoughts, an experience I’ve come to call meditation. Lest the word become off-putting I have to say those meditative experiences range from quiet reflection to exhilarating thrill with great measures of fun stirred into the mix. I find both riding and writing play an important role in how I wrestle with the sights and sounds of the road I travel — literally and figuratively.
I keep three journals. One, a small Moleskine
In each case, riding and writing often play a role in sorting out what’s moving through my head.
Standing alone in a field and gazing across the valley I call home is common. Sometimes it lasts only a moment while I make a photograph. Others are a more extended visit while I engage a larger conversation with the universe or as someone recently suggested a conversation with God.
Everyone has limits — real and imagined. For riders it might be weather, location or time of day. Riding through a little gravel track in the woods on a Vespa scooter may work for me but rise toward the top of the stupid list for another. Regardless, for every rider the important part is to ride and for many that act is a challenge with so many competing demands for time and attention. Sometimes it’s just hard to make the choice to go for a ride.
The same applies to writing. Natalie Goldberg’s Writing Down the Bones: Freeing the Writer Within
For me writing has been a faithful friend through joyous and troubled times alike. It requires little more than a willingness to invest myself with time. Most of what I write is never seen by anyone and I seldom look back at what I’ve written. The act itself is the end much like riding — the movement through space, physical or mental, is its own reward.
If pressured to describe myself I’ll say I’m alone in the world. Many of my photographs are probably a reflection of that feeling. Perhaps I see myself as the Vespa. That idea isn’t important. What is important is how I’ve come to know myself.
Riding and writing open doorways to access what otherwise may remain hidden — thoughts and feelings bubbling below the surface yet animating actions and behaviors. Finding those tools along with others has been a gift. When asked about Scooter in the Sticks I tell people it’s a blog about riding a Vespa scooter. And while that’s true it’s more than that for me — it’s an opportunity to sift through experience and hold onto the little lessons that are easy to miss.
Standing in a field on looking out at the world I see my long dead parents and the Christmas mornings we had. I see my heart attack and physical life beyond. I see my family and their hopes and dreams. I see myself as an old man riding a Vespa. And without writing I would be blind to those lessons.
Riding and writing — the gift to myself on Christmas.
If this was about riding a Vespa the blog would say, “So I went out and started the scooter. It ran with it’s usual precision (or lumpiness) and off I went looking for more gravel roads where the small tires supply blood pressure raising reactions to the suspension.”
But you don’t. This blog strikes at your basic philosophies and perceptions. It’s cool but it’s not about “Riding a Vespa”.
I’m not alone in the universe. I feel the force of creation when I ride. The wind is a force field. Sound is flowing molecules both entering my ears and vibrating my body. It was Hollywood schtick but the whole concept of The Force and the Jedi strikes a chord with me. I feel my engine, chassis and brakes. The sounds my machines make resonate in my soul. I NEVER turn on my car radio. The engine, tires and wind make a music maybe only I hear but it satisfies me and keeps me company.
Every day I feel my late wife near me as if she never left. Her Force still resonates in the house. Yes, to some it might be hokey, but every Zen like thought you write about is because of that flow of creation. Not just “Riding a Vespa.”
I like the notion you describe of feeling the force of creation when you ride. That’s as fine a description as I’ve ever read for what I feel as well. And I’m sure you’re not alone in having Star Wars strike a chord. It has a universal appeal that’s hard to deny. My daughter and I went to see the new movie a couple of days ago and I was transported again…
And you’re right about the Force of those we love being strong after they’re gone. I hope you find comfort in the memories. I’m grateful that the pain of my personal losses have been replaced with fine memories and being able to sense the closeness of those spirits.
Best to you in the coming year and the rides you make. Be well and be safe.
There speaks a man who appreciates life in all its dimensions. Steve, your words inspire and enlighten in equal measure. As my old grandfather used to say as I impatiently careered through my teens: “Aim to take time out each day just to think. Take time to make sense of the world. Look beneath the surface, lad!”
I still look forward to reading Scooter In The Sticks. In fact I save every edition in Evernote and revisit them for inspiration – insights, prose and beautiful images surely meriting publication as a glossy hardback?
Please keep up the good work.
I’d like to wish you and all your readers a healthy and happy 2016… and safe roads.
Keith
Thank you Keith for your kind words of support and your reflections on living. I wish my grandfather, or someone, would have offered that advice. Took me a long time to discover it.
I think about writing a book based on the sorts of things I write about in Scooter in the Sticks. It seems daunting right now but hopefully the coming year will provide some openings for me. Dreams are a fine thing don’t you think?
Best wishes to you for the coming year and thank you again for sharing your thoughts here.
Steve;
I have to disagree with one of your statements. No, you are not alone in this world.
I have been faithfully following your blog since sometime in 2007, and I can say with certainty that we are kindred spirits. I always look forward to reading what you have written, and thus gain greater perspective on myself.
Steel
The feeling of being alone is strong and has been since childhood — perhaps it has something to do with being an only child. While I don’t confuse it with being lonely there is some odd quality to it all that I’ve not sorted. And it does drive writing and photography at times.
Following since 2007 — wow, it’s hard to believe that much time has passed. When I look at my blog statistics in WordPress and see that I”m closing in on 1000 posts it’s sort of sobering that I’ve sustained the effort for so long. It obviously is connected to some questioning that I’ve not yet answered.
Thanks for sharing your kind words of support. While I never intended or planned for anyone commenting or sharing when I started Scooter in the Sticks I am grateful it has turned out that way. I’ve learned so much from the people who comment.
Thank you!
Another insightful post. As other have said, this blog isn’t about riding a Vespa. It is simply the mechanism and underlying “excuse” as if you needed one. I haven’t yet figured out the “why” of my blog yet…
Blogging is a strange activity isn’t it? I look at a lot of blogs and see some common stuff — like a desire to make money, support a business, or build a platform to speak on an issue. Facebook has replaced a lot of those needs leaving so many blogs dead. I used to gripe about people who grabbed cool URLs on Blogger and then never did a thing with them — like vespa.blogspot.com. That was taken in 2005 and just sits.
You’ve been blogging a long time and I bet if you spent a little time you would know why you’re still at the table…
“Riding and Writing”
A simple comment (could be termed as distracted driving as well),
yet we the readers and responders to your blog find your
reading and writing a diary of your life.
A glimpse perhaps into your dreams and thoughts.
May you continue for ever more.
Some friends grow uncomfortable imagining themselves sharing as I do publicly on a blog. I tell them I don’t share anything I wouldn’t share in a conversation with a stranger if asked. As far as what I write being a reflection of my life that may be true for part of it at least but only part. Like anything else there’s a process of editing in the sharing and we all only share what we’re comfortable with. Dreams and thoughts is a good description of it.
Damn you’re good! I’m constantly amazed that you routinely hit the “descriptive” nail on the head…while I flounder trying to express my joy in just riding to nowhere. Stay well, my cyber friend, stay well.
I think of myself as “practiced”. My wife Kim impressed upon me a long time ago the value of practice in learning how to write. The more you work at it the more often things seem “good”. I’ve written a lot of tripe that you don’t see. If I pushed the publish button every time you would feel differently. Learning to edit, words or photos, goes a long, long way to looking “good”!
Keep at it — you’ll get to where you want to be.
You’ve heard the expression: “It’s not the destination, its the ride” or a variant: The ride is the destination.
Seems to be me, you’ve intertwined the joys of riding with the destination mechanism of writing to let your mind work its way through its thoughts…..very nice. The Vespa is seemingly the carrier and catalyst for said thoughts and your blog plus notebooks the recording mediums.
Absolutely Dom — the ride is the destination. And that’s certainly a metaphor for practically everything in life.
Unless of course you’re involved with a URAL. Then a ride is a miracle — completely different experience. *grin*
My regular hit of Zen.
A hit of Zen — maybe I need to explore haiku style posts.
Did I pass you on Brush Valley Rd on Christmas Eve?