Oh how I love riding in the rain...

I was riding home from work yesterday, feeling the joy that comes with being on the bike, rain running down my visor, splashing through puddles.  Why?  Why do I love riding in the rain so much?

I think I feel so connected to the world, but still a little apart.  I love seeing the rain, smelling it, and feeling the cool breeze, while I'm cozy and protected by my visor, my heat, my thermal lining. But I'm still there, I'm still in it.

My mind wandered... it reminded me of the years I spent working in the criminal justice system.  I'd never
been around substance abuse, I'd never been involved with the law outside of a couple of tickets, and I'd never even supported a family member dealing with those challenges. But, when I was there, I connected with the core of people.  I understood their struggle, their lives made sense to me.  I never tried to change any of my clients, but strove every single day to give them one positive contact with the system.  Because sometimes, one positive contact is all it takes for a minor course correction.

View through my visor

It reminded me of times I'd made big life changes, taking the plunge into a new situation, a new state, a new social group.  That feeling of being part of, but apart from.

My mind wandered again to when I started riding a motorcycle.  I remember because I was, honestly, quite the terrible rider, feeling like a fraud as I waved to other riders.  Feeling a part of that world, but outside of it.
And then I thought about all of the people in this world who are in it, but don't feel a part of it at all.  Perhaps they are a cultural minority, or perhaps they are homeless.  I thought about stories I've heard of being completely invisible when you are in a wheel chair.  Perhaps someone's mental health keeps them from fully connecting to themselves or others, they simply hold on to an existence in this world, without feeling a part of it.


It reminded me of the recent influx of veterans I've seen in my work; people who returned from Vietnam, and were made unwelcome where they belonged; people who were shunned when they needed love.  People whose daymares and nightmares are as real as the screen I type on before me. People who find love but struggle to hold onto connection, their very understandable fears holding the ones they want close at a distance.

It reminded me of people who have been through other traumas, who don't understand why their anxiety lingers, interfering at inconvenient moments.  And people with persistent pain, who struggle to be in this moment, because this moment is so very physically uncomfortable.  And people who wish they didn't feel they had to be here on this earth any more; people who believe there is a promise of peace and ease in the next world.

I looked through the rain, tapping on my visor, feeling so very grateful to feel connected.  Moving through time and space in a way I loved.  Knowing a loving partner was waiting for me at home, with a wiggly little puppy who was going to need a lot of kisses.  Adoring my two daughters who are striving to live their best life, make great decisions, and have adventures that are meaningful to them.  That my parents wait for my motorcycle stories with mixed emotions; joy that I love it so much, and fear about all the things that could go wrong.  Feeling connected, really connected to great friends.  In this world, we are ultimately alone, but because everyone else is too, we are sublimely connected.