Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

— a passage from Dylan Thomas’s poem “Do not go gentle into that good night”.

If you spend much time alone on the road your mind will wander into the weeds. It’s messy, you can’t see where you’re going, and things stick to you.  Despite being considered recreational vehicles, I’ve found riding scooters and motorcycles stimulate curative powers for the soul.  On a nice line through a sweeping curve, a smooth rise over the crest of a hill, or a walk through a field you’ve decided to explore and suddenly you meet yourself on the road.

New Year’s day — a cold ride with the temperature hovering at the freezing point made worse by a brisk wind that kept the ride going when you stopped never allowing the typical feeling of warmth when the air stops pounding.  Walking through the remains of volunteer weeds in a fallow field I stand face-to-face with the fears and joys of the past year and a heckling self pointing out the challenges ahead.

Sometimes I wish I were still sleeping through life.

A Vespa is not particularly well suited for wet, muddy roads — particularly with street tires which turn mud into something akin to slush covered ice.  There’s no compelling reason to be on that track.  It’s just the kind of place you end up when the rules and “should”s are left behind.  I want to believe everyone comes to understand Thomas’s poem about dying and death at some point in their life.  I only wish I embraced the meaning long ago.

I heard an interview with poet Patricia Jabbeh Wesley where she described how she survived the Liberian Civil War and used that experience to survive cancer.  In both cases she credited a strong belief that she would survive as keeping her alive.  While I don’t believe a person can will themselves to beat an illness like cancer I think there is a lesson in being aware of the desire to live, and live strongly, or as Thomas would write, “Rage, rage against the dying of the light.”

I should note right now — I’ve met people who believe people do control the outcome of their disease — diet, exercise, prayer, whatever and when they don’t survive somehow they didn’t try hard enough.  That blaming victims for not trying hard enough, of not doing all they should do with a disease, or anything else for that matter, is evil in my book.  No one can know what another suffers.  People need your love, not your criticism or judgement.

As I embrace the days ahead I want to burn and rave at the close of the day.  Good or bad, they are magic and will never come again.

I made my (nearly) annual pilgrimage to State College, Pennsylvania to see the First Night ice sculptures on Allen Street.  Those blocks of ice have been transformed into forms and ideas and represent the ephemeral nature of things — here today, gone tomorrow.

And there was an ulterior motive at work — a late lunch at Panera and a chance to warm up.

Families build memories one iPhone picture at a time.  And build traditions.  I’ve become a better observer since I started riding, not just on the road but of life in general.  Riding in more severe conditions has allowed me to become more courageous in almost every area of my life.  And when I feel resistance and fear I know I’ll meet myself on the road for a little chat.

Or more.

As 2016 arrives I’m excited to still be in the circle of the world.  There’s hope and joy ahead as well as dark times.  That’s a given.  My job is to make the most of whatever rolls my way and not turn my back and run.  And if I do, well, I’ll meet myself on the road ahead and have another chat.

I don’t know what’s ahead.  And despite any plans I might make the days have a way of changing them.  Uncertainty is as much of living as change, death and taxes.  As I think of the new year and any resolutions I might have there’s just one that keeps bouncing through my head — to rage against the dying of the light.

I’m alive and walking (or riding) on the earth right now and want to keep meeting myself on the road — raging together.   That’s what I want in the coming year.

To each friend and reader, to anyone who happens by this way — Best wishes for a Happy New Year in 2016!