Rare

Of course, it’s a miracle that the fire department didn’t show up—as they have on more than one occasion—to extinguish the impromptu mini-bonfire at the legacy location, but what’s really a miracle is that it could happen at all, all these many years later, after a hiatus, individually and collectively, for the greater part of those assembled.

It was billed as a shakedown ride for one’s bike in preparation for upcoming bicycle camping adventures, but it also functioned as a warm-up for one’s liver and brain cells, a kind of “amuse bouche” to get the juices of one’s constitution flowing for the main course of shenanigans to follow over the weekend.

But it really did feel like old times.  

There was plenty of arguing at the start-up about where the ride ought to go and ultimately, it was—not decided, but rather, mandated—in the time-honored manner, to wit: whoever yells the loudest and insists the hardest.  And the initial route allowed us all to treat our internal miscreants to just the right amount of transgressing to get the evening started and to experience our own versions of adjacent, against, and upon in the windswept sculpture garden.

Who knew, then, that “kid’s karaoke” was a thing, and while it was pointed out to me that childhood is basically full-time intoxication, it’s still hard to see how or why anyone would get up to belt out an inferior version of a beloved pop song without the aid of alcohol, but there you have it.  

And anyway, it ensured that the bar stop was a short one and that there would be time to school teenagers in the art of tallbike riding sooner rather than later.

Celebrating the World Cup with a spin across some soccer fields was a new one for me and homemade software ensured that no one was left behind for good.

Times and technology may change, but that old fire keeps on burning.

Extant

The Buddha tells us that all is change, nothing is permanent, everything arises and passes away.  The ancient sages of the Vedanta say that ultimate reality is eternal, unchanging, non-dual; pure Being, pure Consciousness, pure Bliss, what appears as ephemeral isn’t really what’s real.

Amazingly, these two contrasting perspectives find perfect agreement when you’re able to rally some three dozen bike-riding brethren (and one two-wheeling sistren) to pedal around town on a lovely early spring afternoon visiting places that no longer are while simultaneously tapping into a feeling of love and connection that seems to have always existed even before we were here and will still carry on well after we’re gone.

The longer you stay on the planet, the shorter it feels like you’ve been.  What first happened some twenty years ago occurs all over once more.  Yesterday’s tomorrow; today still remains; right here is right there, and time disappears.

The dash between birth and death on our tombstone that represents one’s life has a beginning and an end, but if you can keep staring straight on you’ll see it extending forever and what this makes possible is an endless succession of the present moment, and even though you won’t be around to experience it by the time youngsters are as old as you are currently, they’ll pass the very same instant into that endless now which is all there ever was and shall be, as well.

When you have a chance to live your life with the feeling “I could die happy a happy person right now,” you should take it, and when you do you must never forget to remember how incredibly lucky you are to have the chance to do so, especially on two wheels.

A good way to prepare for non-existence is to notice that it’s all too good to be true.  No one can possibly be this blessed, so it can’t possibly be real. 

It never was, and so always will be.

Fortuitous

We should all take a moment to recognize how lucky we are: 

We are fucking lucky!

Because I will warrant that there are very few people in the world who, like us, get to engage in a somewhat questionably legal celebration of the new year (and commemoration of many old ones) that involves a bonfire of countless Christmas trees with flames soaring fathoms up into the night sky which is quickly descended upon by at least a dozen (if not scores) of fully-armed police officers and not only does not a single person—even those who have problems with authority and are apt to voice those problems loudly—gets arrested or worse, but eventually, all of those in attendance along with the men in blue, end up hanging around said bonfire for a good long time, enjoying the lovely, dry winter evening, warmed by the glowing coals and hearty fellowship of the night.

Talk about lucky.

In a world where there is so much strife and conflict and sadness, it’s something of a miracle that in our little corner of the globe that so-called authorities can co-exist so peacefully with self-styled miscreants and everyone gets to go home happily and in more or less one piece.

If that’s not an occasion for the Happy Dance,

I don’t know what is.

Having fun these days is, I think, a vital form of resistance and when it can be had in a manner that pushes against the boundaries of what’s permitted while those charged with enforcing those boundaries can also be flexible, humane, and pretty chill when you get right down to it, then we should celebrate the celebration of that resistance even more.

We’re a couple decades now into this annual conflagration and one of the cops even told me they didn’t want to have to put a stop to such a fine long-standing tradition; talk about abundant good fortune: 

Lucky me.  

Lucky you.  

Lucky all of us!