Arkansas, Mississippi and ... Nirvana?

Over the past couple days, Luna cycled through Arkansas and Mississippi. Now that I'm getting used to the pace, I find myself getting much more used to the brief moments of meditation I have as I wait for Luna to zip by on his bike.

What's interesting about this phenomenon is that I can see a direct relationship between a lack of NPR programming, an abundance of conservative talk radio, and a preference for me to turn off the radio altogether. The result: lots of quiet time. (And also a lot of alone time with mosquitoes, thus the ankle-protecting socks in the photos.)

Even though I initially had lots of time to think. My mind started straying into lots of time to "not think" and I gather that's where the meditation came into play.

The second-half of that sentence is oddly phrased is because I don't know I've meditated until my mind sort of returns to consciousness and realizes that I've been in a thoughtless state for an undefined period of time. I realize that I've had my eyes gazing into the rear-view mirror, but I haven't actually seen a thing. I wonder, "Did I miss Luna?" and somehow, moments later, a tiny black speck would appear in the rear-view mirror's horizon and begin approaching the car.

(Below is a video of the view in Arkansas...)


I think from that "nothingness" state, creativity is born. One of the things that happened, while recently "out" of an open-eyed meditation was how I calculated our proximity to Nashville, Tenn. Luna and I already completed nearly a hundred miles through AR and MS, and we were just five miles south of Memphis. Traffic was unpleasant and heavy (for a bike) and I calculated that we were less than eight days away from Atlanta. We could take a day and a half off! And we could visit our friend in Nashville.

We called her up, and she told us to join her. So, we strapped Luna's bike to the back of the car and muscled our way north to Nashville.

We're now off our originally planned trajectory, and I (a stickler for plans and itineraries) am surprisingly okay with this.

It feels great to be in a house, with a kitchen, and good home-cooking (prepared by a chef, of course). So, how are we heading into Atlanta? What does tomorrow look like? We haven't mapped it out yet. We may not map it out until we hit the road again tomorrow morning. Or we may not hit the road...

All I know is that things are luxuriously normal and comfortable today.

Cyn's Thoughts on the Shoulder

People want answers. They're not satisfied with just questions. But sometimes, answers aren't anticipated or constructed, they're arrived at---come upon.

As I sit here on yet another car-length stretch of shoulder on I-40, I can't help but to notice how uncomfortably sticky and dirty my hands are. How my rear is hot in its jeans, how my back aches...

I'm testing my patience. That's what's happening to me---the queen of patience having her patience tested. Like she has to prove something to sombody, probably herself---since she has to maintain the title!

Who'd have thought? I'm squeezed in my chair, legs pressed up against the steering wheel. Waiting.

Patiently.

But there's this disturbance in my thoughts. Something that wants me to do, rather than to wait.

(Here's a funny video I forgot I recorded while waiting for Luna in the Mojave desert! Ha!)



I tried calling my brother and my dad. Something to pass the time. Conveniently, neither of them were there to hear what patient waiting really sounds like... boredom.

I admit it. Today, I'm bored. Thank goodness for NPR! (And yet, one can only get so smart in one day.)

Much of my day is spent looking through the rear-view mirror to see a black speck in the distance.

What are we doing?

What are we headed into?

Why are we doing this again?

My ire swells a little when I realize how hot it is, what time it is, how much my butt aches.

And then I see the black speck.

Maybe he's hungrey. Or maybe he wants to quit---for today, at least. I could handle that. I'm bored.