Day 5 - On Struggle & Solitude

No journey is difficult. Is living difficult? Because if it is difficult, then the result is certain---which is go to the highest mountain and jump off. If you can't handle living, there are no drugs in the world that are going to cure you. If you're feeling depressed, then get undepressed.

Our struggles are not outside of us, they are in us. Our struggle with our spouses, jobs, kids, they are all within us. And it's not that you choose that you want to be one thing or the other--it's already been decided for you.

Pessimistic view, pessimistic thought, pessimistic outcome.

If you can't cheer yourself up, who will? If you don't love yourself, who will? If you don't understand yourself, who will?

Solitude on this cycling journey, being alone, being on a mountain, and moving forward, I don't see cars, trucks, anything. I realize how alone one is.

Alone is not lonely. Alone is just you with yourself.

When you learn--and it can only be for a moment--when you learn that you are vulnerable, that you are not in control, you will be able to see the images of you.

One of the things that I have seen are these trucks. Not one, but many trucks, pass by. I have two feet pedaling, and I realize that I am not in charge. If it ends for me there, it ends for me there.

And so, in whose hands am I? In those of the men and women who drive these trucks and cars? Because clearly I am not in control.

This is the solitude that I'm talking about.

You can't live remembering everything, or putting things into practice. It's just not the way life is lived. The moment it enters your mind, it's already recorded. Why do you want to live life practicing something you already know? Why not live what you don't know? Or what's unknown? Let yourself go, live, be free of fear.

And move closer to yourself--to knowing me, the ego.

Day 4 - Cyn's Thoughts in Arizona

This morning, I woke up so thankful for a full night's sleep, into actual morning---the kind that follows a sunrise, not the kind that pursues it, as we have been doing for the first three days of this journey.

Today, even though we're still in desert climes, I'm thankful for the wind, so Luna can pump his legs across Rte. 40 to Flagstaff.

We're both awed by the relentless peace, the beauty of the landscape, and how close the fluffy, white and silver cloud puffs float above the trees. They travel slowly, too. Like us.

There is a certain pace to living, isn't there?

And when we're not in synch with that pace, then we call it life, because we don't really feel like we're living. Seems like we're either rushing to get ready for it, rushing to get ahead of it, or waiting to get ready for it, or waiting because we think we got ahead of it.

Every moment is question...

Is there anything wrong with helping others? What is right about helping others? Perhaps people do not want help. Maybe people do not want change. Who am I to think people need help? Am I selfish for thinking of myself?

It may make me feel good, happy, content when I help another human being. I think it is a natural thing to do. Helping another human being who may or may not need help is what nature intended for me.

Life does not offer answers, it offers questions. Living does not not offer misery, it offers hope, dreams, and miracles. When you live questioning yourself, you'll come to an understanding that in order to help others, you must first help yourself. And my question remains. Am I selfish for thinking of others like me? Life is a risk. You are not in control. For me, personally, if life were not a risk, what would be the point of living?

So, in answer to some people's question about why I'm doing this cross-country bike tour. I guess it's for the risk, and the hope to help others. But truly, the destination is in every moment. And every moment is question.

Doughnuts & Coffee...

This morning, we went out to pick up some doughnuts before starting the day. I love having a cup of coffee before getting started with my day. Coffee warms my stomach and gently moves me from a sleeping state to a waking state.

Both of us are crazy busy. I have a list of friends I need to contact to tell about this trip. A lot of my peeps still don't know.

Luna has plans to train again today. Yesterday, he spent almost three hours on a stationary bike at the gym. I'm surprised that he did pretty darn well. I mean, he wasn't winded in the least bit. He reminded me afterward that the gym conditions aren't nearly comparable to real-life conditions. Cyclists are either confronted with riding into the wind or with the wind, when they are riding uphill their bike tilts with them and they are carrying their weight while balancing on a two-centimeter wheel--your whole body is involved in the process.

Nevertheless, he seemed to appreciate the workout, getting his calves and thighs used to the motion, so different from walking (my preferred mode of athletic transportation.)

Strangely enough, I'm really nervous and excited for this trip myself. Obviously, being in the car, it's not so much a matter of the physical test, but rather, because I think this will test my mental ... moxie.

I'll have a lot of time to myself on this journey.

A friend asked me, "Are you sure you're doing this for yourself? Are you sure you want to do this?"

And my response was simply, "What else would I do if I didn't?" Isn't life just a succession of events that you either take part in, or you witness? I guess I'm glad to be able to take part in this event in a way that I can take part in it. I really don't think I have the physical wherewithal to endure 2,500 miles of cross-country cycling.

I do have a lot of awareness about the personal challenges that supporting a friend who does have that physical ability will present.

Already I have posed to myself countless questions about what it means to be a woman, what it means for me to be the "passenger" on this trip "driven" by my (male) partner, and I can say that I do experience a little bit of conflict over it--if only because I was brought up on somewhat contradictory values that I have incorporated and embodied.

On the one hand, I feel so great to be useful and important to play this role of support crew to an amazing person who is about to take on an amazing challenge. On the other hand, I am aware that I am (and have been for a while) digressing from the path charted for me. That path was safe and perfect: I'd get married, live in a house with a white picket fence, I'd be raising beautiful children and taking them to soccer practice, while seamlessly advancing in my career. Over the past five years or so, I have gotten divorced, eschewed the white picket fence for less permanent abodes across a 6,000-mile span from Washington D.C. to Maui and back to the mainland, begun a PR business of my own, and put a hold on the child-rearing lifestyle.

Living my life off the itinerary gives my Moon in Virgo a bit of a head-ache. While the travel feeds my soul, I do find comfort in settling too.

Yeah, I'll have a lot of time to think about this stuff when we hit the road. Today, I have letters to write. Phone calls to make. Stuff to pack. But, first, shower!!