Tumbling thoughts

A moment of quiet contemplation and peace.

Time has stood still in Devon and most of the UK, hasn't it? A peacefulness hangs in the air, only interrupted by the chirping of birds and a few cars moving around. Admittedly, there are far more vehicles on the roads now than there were three months ago, but they are still relatively few. In just a weeks time we will hit the summer solstice: the longest day of the year. Many people are still waiting, hoping that they year will start soon. When I was ill I learned that my years often didn't go to plan, but they were still the years I had to live, my years. By letting go of all your preconceptions of what might have been in 2020, it can still be a good one. Creativity doesn't disappear and 2020 is proof that we can be incredible creative when we wish.

I began to explore the notion of enjoying life in a whole new way a long time ago now when my mind snapped, stopping me in my tracks. Trying to take what positives I can from the moment now doesn't mean that I don't feel what's happening now or that I'm not disturbed by it. It means that despite those underlying feelings I know that the only person who can make the most of my current situation is me. Yes, I have lost some friends to Covid 19. Yes, I mourn and grieve for them. That aside, I am simply trying to do what is best for me and those I love and that is a path with a variety of boundaries that you have to decide for yourself.

For many, what is important has changed beyond any imaginings from back in 2019. Our lives are upside down and inside out. The things that often define us, like work and our pastimes, have been turned on their heads. Plans have been largely torn up and adventures smothered by this virus. Luckily for me I chose to cycle and that has been all but free of restrictions since lockdown started. We may have been forced to stop, our known world may have been deleted, but life does continue for most. Welcome to the new world.

A mural in Okehampton, just a few miles away.

Cycling is one of the few things I can still do in relative safety until this virus backs down a little more. Work has gone. Teresa and I used to ride into Exeter on our cycles to train some new riders in the ways of Bikeability. Now there are no children to teach, at least until sometime in September or October if we are lucky. I will be forever grateful that we are  getting some financial support until the end of the school year in July for cancelled work. It seems ironic that I have only just managed to stand back up from ill health and now I have to stop and return to a world of 'day to day' that I lived for many years.

This week I saw, for the first time, the new Covid 19, Bikeability instructors guide. It took only a few minutes to digest that what was proposed within its pages would make the delivery of any meaningful courses all but impossible for the near future. Some things need to be about the fun and the content of the course and not whether you have sanitised your hands prior to getting on/off your bike and are standing two meres away from anybody or thing that might give you an infection. Of course those things are important too but there are places where they are so intrusive as to make it all but impossible to carry on your work with any real meaning or joy. Welcome to the new normal.

It's now ten weeks or so since Teresa and I were last together. Separated by just 50 miles, we may as well be on the opposite sides of the world. Unlike young folk that text the friend who's standing next to them, we like to touch and hug. Taking that away is akin to removing one of my primary senses. I don't like talking on screens, where you either look at the camera, away from the person, or at the person, which looks like you are avoiding eye contact. For me it isn't tangible. I can't feel anything. It's a little like looking at a cat and not being able to stroke it. 

Can't wait for me, Teresa and Hercules to do this again.

Given that you cannot easily substitute those feelings and desires, what can you do? Well you can start with self-care: take that bath with the bath-bomb in it. Revel in it, feel it, enjoy it. Eat good food and enjoy preparing it as well as shopping for it. Get out and exercise. Don't beat yourself up because you'e not achieving anything. Try to look at what's left and what you can do with that?  Try not to push away the current situation, as if you could, but to embrace it. It's okay to move slowly in the world now. There is no rush for many of us. Why do a cycle ride in an hour that can be stretched to two? Why ride past that intriguing place that you never stop at when you can stop and look at it? You don't have to emerge from this with a whole new skill-set you learned whilst furloughed. Emerging in one piece or thereabouts is enough.

This time is golden. Don't miss the opportunity to grab it with both hands. Demand your future life is more like now could be: less stressful in many ways. Demand that we change from greed and accumulation of cheap crap that is soon to be landfill fodder to something more sustainable. Take the things of quality that you have in your life and hold onto them tightly, demanding that we seize this moment to change our lifestyle forever. This is our chance, let's not let it slip by jumping on the first plane to somewhere we think of as exotic for two weeks when our planet is telling us clearly to do less, travel less, fly less and demand less. there are so many opportunities here and in Europe, all of which can be accessed without flying. Ask yourself if you really need a stag weekend in Prague or a fourth weekend trip to Barcelona this year in the first place? Is the job that gives you these things really worth it or do you do these things to justify the work ethic?

These are some of the muddled things that occupy my thoughts when I'm riding my trike: Hercules. At other times I'm more mindful: noticing that cheeky Stoat running across the road ahead with something in it's mouth that looks bigger than it is. I notice the Wheat Ears fluttering up the lane, flashes of white under their wings as they go and a small group of cows wanders over to see what it is that has parked by the gate to their field. Squirrels, ever busy, hustle along the roadsides, hiding behind trees whenever they sense danger. There are a myriad of thing to see and enjoy if you take the time to look. None are far from home for most people.

South Devon.

Another thing that often occupies my thoughts is: why am I still pushing myself? Chill-out, relax and enjoy the ride, I tell myself. It's hard to break the habit of a lifetime, a lifetime where we all started to run when we were young and are only allowed to stop shortly before we drop dead. Is there any reason that I need to get up this hill in one push or ride as far as I can in a day? Often I find myself answering no, there is no reason to feel constantly challenged other than the fact that is how it has always been. Leave the headless chicken impressions to the young. They can learn in their own time that speed isn't everything.

And then, just occasionally, I settle back in my armchair (trike seat) and stop thinking that endless spiral of mind-filling distractions. If I'm lucky, at some point I will just be at one with the world, even if it's only for a moment or two. My mind empties, not because I'm too tired or too occupied to to think of anything else. No, it empties because I have let it. There is not a single thought that I need to catch and think about. I let them fall to the ground unanswered. I'm being mindful. That is the moment I notice the stoat, the flower, that cloud formation or whatever else. That is how I want to live: fully aware, with enough energy to appreciate what I already have.

Last week I passed a couple who were walking and the man shouted faster, faster. I grinned, replying no, slower, slower. His preconception of cycling is perhaps more that of the Lycra-clad warriors who take on 'The Dartmoor Beast' or similar challenge rides than the ordinarily-clothed worrier trying to find some solace in a complex world. I do those rides as well, but not in the context of a sportif. I ride those hills because I want to see over the other side and I want to see what there is on the way up this side. To focus on finishing or on a certain time isn't something I have in my armour any longer. My focus is purely about enjoying the ride. You have to choose for yourself which you prefer.

Soul food: Watching the sunset anywhere.

Hercules, my trike, places me even closer to the ground than his predecessor. With no traffic around I often feel as though I'm creeping through he undergrowth, waiting for something to show its face, whether that is a furry caterpillar, a deer or a squirrel. I'm stalking the wildlife, whispering like David Attenborough at the flora and fauna I pass. The flowers stroke my arms, as would the stinging nettles if I let them, so I sneak along the lanes stealthily, feeling unseen as I go.

Luckily, I do get seen by cars, thanks to the flag and the bright yellow sunroof with reflectors on it. I usually smile and wave to those inside and more often than not get the same in return. It seems that my own disposition directly effects those I meet along the road. If i'm positive, so are they.  Locals, deliver people and farmers, all wave at this weird contraption they have come across unexpectedly. I try to move aside to let cars pass by, unlike many roadies, who despite have every right to ride that way don't seem to understand that not everybody has the same time as they do at that moment. I stop and talk to those I meet along the way. whoever they are. Normal social contact it's called and another part of self-care. This also makes me smile. Luckily I live in a place where people usually do talk to each other and I'm convinced that one of the positive changes we are undergoing is that people are gaining a strong sense of others as the pandemic sweeps the world.

I feel as though the people inside cars are in another world from me with their air conditioning and music. They appear to me as victims of the modern idea that technology means all and under the delusion that they are connected in their Urban SUV or Chelsea Tractor. Connected to what? It certainly isn't the world I'm connected to when I ride. You have to slow right down to feel that connection. You know that I don't like GPS and the like. It's all very clever but allows you to go places without thinking about it or having any idea where you might actually be in relation to anything else. Maps take more input. You have to look and stop. You have to make decisions other than downloading a freely available route and simply following it. In short it's another disconnect from the real world. I challenge you to take a map of your local area, choose a direction to start off in but only decide your route at each junction rather than pre-planning it. I assure you it's a blast.

And so it goes. Ambling along swinging between a head full of thoughts and a head full of smells and sights, that I miss completely as soon as I get in a car or place my helmet on, the journey of less speed continues. Sometimes mindful, sometimes mindless, sometimes distracted, but occasionally at one with myself and the world. I can build on those moments. Will you?

Until next time.