Dad

My father and I just had a really long talk (helmet-enabled) as I rode out through city and country scenes today. I took routes I've really never been on before, some that I have been, and we spoke about the nature of life, spirituality and human nature. We spoke of joy and peace, of partnership and friendship, and he spoke clearly and from the heart, of his mistakes and his wins and failures.

He is old - now mid-80's - and his health is questionable, but with every conversation I feel more connected and put together, as a man, as a human. More whole, if that makes sense.

And it's not really what he says or doesn't say, what we talk about - it's more like how folks say you have two conversations going on at the same time, the conversation going on in words, and the conversation going on without words. I've heard different percentages of each, and I'm sure each conversation and its participants vary these amounts, but with my dad, there seems to be a whole lot that he isn't saying that's really important for me to receive and understand, and somehow I do. This wordless exchange of ideas and thoughts and wishes and hopes. It's worth the call a thousand times over.

Another beautiful spring/early-summer day. It's gonna be a hot one, but nestled in the curvy twisty country landscape between mammoth oaks and elms covered in ivy, my helmet fills with green as the chill in the air cuts into my open riding jacket and catches me by surprise.

It's lovely beyond measure, and I spend the rest of the ride in a moving meditation, listening to the purr of the engine as the bike and I open up under old railroad bridges and lazily unwind through countless tree-lined curves.