Tag: mystical

Bicycling in the West – Kayenta to Towaoc

Bicycle Touring in the West – Day 14 – Kayenta to Towaoc

“Take a breath of the new dawn and make it a part of you.”
  ~ Hopi proverb

Today is a longer day for us, and we’re on the road before dawn. We’ve got a little over 107 miles to ride today, and if the wind’s not kind, it could be a long 107 miles. We feel confident that we’ll be able to find water every 25 or 30 miles, which puts our mind to ease that worse case, it’s just a long day.

At first we’re a little disappointed that we’re not on the road 30 minutes before we are because of the long day ahead of us. Riding east out of Kayenta, the landscape around us explodes into magical shapes and beautiful pre-dawn colors. As the sun washes across the mystical hills and rocks to our north, we stop often to take pictures of the breathtaking sunrise. By the time we’re 10 miles down the road, we realize how lucky we are that we didn’t leave earlier, or we would’ve missed a spectacular sunrise show.

Once again, I’m struck by just how much I treasure the early morning on a bicycle. The remainder of the day happens – sometimes good and sometimes less good. But dawn is universally spectacular, sometimes mind-numbingly so. This morning is one of those mind-numbingly beautiful mornings. Continue reading “Bicycling in the West – Kayenta to Towaoc”

Not Fearing Death

I sat with a chapel full of people on Saturday, and said goodbye to an old friend. While he was 71, his death was still a bit sudden and unexpected. Much like the death of my father, (which I write about in Peace at the Edge of Uncertainty), my friend’s death was preceded by a coma of some short duration.

It’s a common theme today – one that most families will face in one way or another. A loved one sustained mechanically and electronically, while their mind and body seems to be reaching for the thing that’s next after this life. The journey takes it’s toll on those who must make the difficult decisions on behalf of the stricken loved one, though I feel the toll extracted is much larger than it needs to be.

We count on those around us to have the courage to make the hard decisions that must be made on our behalf when we can’t make them ourselves. We count on the love of those closest to us to help us successfully negotiate the end of this life when we need that help. Providing that help should be an honor, not a burden. Being chosen, or asked, or even forced by circumstance into that role of both honor and pain is a privilege we should bear with pride.

The words just roll right on to this page, as-if it’s easy. But it’s not. I hope and pray that we can evolve our culture to fear death less, and to embrace all aspects of this wonderful journey we call life – including that final aspect we call dying. But until that happens, I’m certain I’ll continue to see the deep pain and heavy burden of hard decisions on the loved-ones who do the right thing for those who trust them to make good and right decisions.

While I don’t look forward to death, I also have no fear of it. I’ve had several quite mystical and spiritual experiences in life that have left me completely confident in the uncertainty that lies beyond that vague window at the end of this journey. These, also, I write about in Peace at the Edge of Uncertainty.

It may be that my end comes as a rapid and certain event, or it may be that I’ll need the help of those whom I love to find that window at the end of the journey when it’s time. In the event that I do need that help, I do all I can while I live to make sure those folks I count on for that help understand in advance how much I’m counting on them, and how much I appreciate the love and the courage they’ll show in helping me.

It’s a discussion we should all have, but a discussion that’s hampered by the fear of death that we seem to have in our culture. Getting over that fear should be a primary focus of growing up, shouldn’t it?