Drifting
as a cyclist, i used to think about unlocking challenging trails as channeling the totality of myself—sweats, heartbeats, the clouds of my consciousness—into the present moment. chasing a downhill rush, i never know when gravity’s gift would end. grinding up an ascent, the summit’s vista or a liberating descent usually arrives unseen. then it’s perfectly logical that the only thing i could command is the decision to keep pedaling, right?
well over time i kind of figured my focus on controlling the pedals still clung to dualistic thinking: chasing the downhill, dreading the uphill; seeking the sunset, shunning the rain. perhaps the way to go is to cherish the beauty in the persistent acts themselves, and be at peace with whatever arrives. detachment, i thought, would give me strength.
“i still pedal with force, but the forward motion is less about controlling the path, and more about appreciating the ebbing of effort and the flowing of ease, and the harmonious participation in life’s unfolding, unpredictable terrain.” i wrote. i think i missed something there—and it had been confusing me, quite a bit.
the mistake—life ain’t cycling. yeah, all the visceral moments on a bike carry a lot of weight, and they certainly constitute quite a kaleidoscopic lens into life. but when i cycle, i deal with a seemingly finite set of variables, most of which i enjoy dealing with. tinkering, detouring, hydrating…generally unfucking myself from unforeseen situations. i mean i love it—as a medium for racing, stargazing, unwinding, having fun with my friends, and just being with myself.
but life, man, is infinite. yeah, i still enjoy the fixing and patching, but the vastness weighs on me sometimes. i can’t just unbother myself, cos i don’t get to choose the nature of the problems. i’ve always been an idealist and will keep being an idealist. but i think i need to be able to say to myself: there’s certain bitterness that’s just a bit harder to absorb, there’s certain transience that’s just a bit harder to accept, there’s certain balance that’s just a bit harder to finesse. and it’s okay to care. to attach. to not be antifragile.
so maybe instead of pedaling, drifting is the better capture of how i wish to live. yes, to drift one must first pedal—there’s an undying passion that underlies the deliberate act of creation, and it’s beautiful. but there’s no need to cling to pedaling, especially when some part of my totality feels off. let form soften. let breath take charge.
ergo, drift.