#2 :motorcycles

In high school, I was forbidden by my Mom from ever placing my butt on the seat of a motorcycle.

for.bid.den.

Now that I am a woman of a certain age, I can finally admit sheepishly that I did not 100%, completely, listen to her.

Once upon a time, my butt definitely saw a few (very very responsible, I swear) seats.

As a mom, and a responsible tax-paying adult, I thought I had put my motorcycling adventures behind me.

I was wrong.

(From stage right) Enter my midlife crisis.

I turned 50.

and…I have started riding again.

and…I am in love.

I love riding.

The rumble of the motor.

The fresh air on my face.

The feeling of absolute presence and trust I have in myself.

The feeling of inclusiveness and belonging I feel when passing another motorcycle on the road and exchanging waves.

“Only a biker knows why a dog sticks his head out of a car window.”

Riding makes me feel alive. It makes me feel sexy. It makes me feel like I belong.

Sensuality is such a very important part of my identity. I yearn to breathe in all the air. I desire to smell all of the smells as they rush by. Notably, not all smells are exactly pleasant.

The feel of the air and sun on my skin brings me into the most present, mindful mindset.

I am focused entirely on what is right in front of me. I cannot think about my mistakes, my failures, my fears. There is just no room for anything but each breath.

Riding a motorcycle is just another way to live my yoga off the mat. Breath. Movement. Presence. Bliss.

I am in the deep planning process of a 6,000+ mile transcontinental trip to mark the beginning of a new decade and a new chapter.

The adventure of a lifetime.

Celebrating my messy, awkward self by taking time for mountain air, adventure, the rumble of an engine, and the feeling of being fully free…

Finally, I am free to be myself without apology. All it took was a motorcycle.