changes, attachments, and goodbyes

I keep writing and deleting this post.  Perhaps because I haven't learned the lesson from what is currently going on in my life, I am unable to coherently communicate my thoughts.
 
It is a season of change.  My daughter, (I was going to call her my baby girl, but she is such a stunning  young lady, I can't call her that) is going off to college.  My role in her life, that has been steadily and gradually changing, will suddenly will change completely, in ways yet to be seen.

As this change is happening, we have made a decision to move closer to my hubby's daughter, and settle down in Oregon for a while.  Yet I remain skeptical of the idea of settling down and growing attached.  We have been nomads for three years, spending every other weekend in homes 250 miles apart.  The idea of living in one place, making friends with neighbors, and starting high school support over again is exciting and somewhat surreal.

Three years ago, I made a decision to buy a town house, feeling as though that was a permanent settling and I could get attached, here I am, leaving again.  Even in the midst of that purchase, my life was starting to change.  A new and permanent relationship was forming, and has profoundly changed me in ways I could never have imagined at the time. 

Through this relationship we have kept and made friends in two places.  How do you say goodbye while you are still profoundly connected?  We're not actually going far enough not to see people again, we are just going far enough to change the faces in our day to day, week to week contact.  I have always made friends that while we might fall out of touch for a while, put the close ones back in a room together, and we are bonded as if we talked yesterday.  This will be a telling time; who are those friends?  Who will fade away, cared about from a distance, and who will remain connected?  This will depend on an area where I have worked to do some personal growth.  The area of the healthy goodbye.  I have, in the past, let people drift away as life has changed.  In reality, a healthier goodbye would reclarify the relationship, would honor what has been, and would be realistic about moving forward.  It would force me to look at my own wants and needs in a realistic manner, and share them with those important to me.  My best practice at this has come from my therapeutic relationships, where I have forced myself to communicate clearly and intentionally about the reality of those relationships.  My worst has been with friends, where I don't want to acknowledge that things are changing, and let myself believe I will find a way to help them continue.

As I write this, I am reminded of something I have said before.  I attach to people, not things.  And I think I protect myself from fully feeling the changes in these attachments by not participating in healthy goodbyes.  Which brings me to the next part of the changes and goodbyes.  I have made a decision to buy a dual sport motorcycle.  This, in itself, has me over the moon excited.  Not only will I ride on dirt, not only will I ride on street, but I can ride on both WITH THE SAME BIKE!  Imagine the adventure opportunity this opens up!  Yet, one girl cannot own three (plus the geriatric one that hasn't yet been fixed) motorcycles.  One girls husband bears too much responsibility for motorcycle trouble shooting and maintenance because this girls learning curve is steep.  And this girl is a practical one, who doesn't want to leave a bike sitting in her garage when someone could be canyon carving or commuting on this delightful little machine.  So this girl must say goodbye to her first street bike.

It is much like parting with a first love.  I remember the first day I sat on this motorcycle, given to me by my dear husband.  I am tearing up thinking about it.  I rode it around the apartment complex at 8 miles an hour, terrified of hurting it. This is not a machine; this is a relationship.  The motorcycle cannot stay separate from you, it must become a part of you.  I remember the second day, going from my morning "top speed" of 17 miles per hour to riding down Maple Valley Highway at 55.  What a feeling!  I remember naming her Angel, due to her white and sparkling beauty.  I remember coming home with my daily confessional of the mistakes I made riding every day. The only ones who really knew were my baby ninja and me.  I remember passing my motorcycle test with my baby ninja.  I remember riding every day, no matter the weather, to get myself ready for whatever may come on my honeymoon.  I remember my first experience with hypothermia, my brain slowed, my motor skills slowed, and I didn't really even realize I was in danger.  The baby ninja was so forgiving of all of these mistakes. 

Then there was our honeymoon ride.  Traveling 3500 miles on the baby ninja, riding on what Nathan called the best roads I will ever experience on my life.  I remember taking her to the Lost Coast, where she proved her nearly off road capabilities and I went from being afraid of transitioning from gravel to pavement, to cornering on a road that was falling apart, uneven, sometimes gravel, and unpredictable.  I remember the baby ninja zipping through the Mohave Desert, 105 degrees, 30 mile an hour cross wind, hot hot hot.  The baby ninja is so willing, so ready, so excited to have fun all the time. 

I tested my new motorcycle last night.  OMG was it fun.  I felt like I was being naughty, and might get caught; I was riding a dirt bike on the street... But it's legal!  And, I was a little awkward; I rode a long time to find a space I felt safe to turn around.  I slowed down too much on curves, and felt a little top heavy.  The gearing was all different, and the turn signal is small and a little sticky.  All things I will adjust to over time. Or fix. Then I got back on the baby ninja to go home, and OMG, was it fun!  I have bonded with that bike, I know it.  We work together to figure things out.  I don't have to think, my body and the baby ninja are connected.  It's a flow experience. I know I have not pushed the baby ninja to the fullest of her abilities, because I haven't reached the fullest of mine.

Yet, I have peace with my decision to part with the baby ninja and start a relationship with my new bike.  I'm already planning the mods, the care, the possible changes of color.  I'm daydreaming of adventures the ninja couldn't go on.  I'm ready for the ninja to continue being loved and adored by someone who wants to love and adore that beautiful beloved little bike, while I start over with a new friend. 

Farewell baby ninja.  Have many more adventures, teach more people to ride, be wonderful and reliable. I will be grateful for the lessons you have taught me. And hello new yet to be named and nicknamed bike... Oh the fun we are going to have!

The Hill Climb...

A cool thing happened yesterday. Besides being on a dirt bike all day, that is. We found a really fun (read muddy, steep, rocky, v-notch) hill climb in the woods. The guys went up, one by one; some with more success than others, some with better form than others. The first time I tried, I fell half way up, laughed, had help turning my bike around, and coasted back down. Which gave me an appreciation for how steep the thing really was! With all the guys at the top, betting against me I heard later, I tried it again... First gear, wheels spinning, pushing my bike over the top with my boots, victory was mine! Much cheering ensued, pointing at my slick mud packed back tire, and a high five with my fiancée; I felt on top of the world. 

It's no small feat to look at a mountain and think "I can get up that." I reflect on times in my life that I just put it in gear and got through it... Baby in college, kiddo with cancer, grad school, divorce... Life changes give you the option of getting through or falling apart. Even with the guys betting against me yesterday, there's not a one that wouldn't help get me out of the woods injured or ride my bike up something I couldn't handle. Knowing this gave me the courage to try. Life is the same way; because I've always had people in my corner ready to lend a hand if I fall and cheer when I succeed, I look at opportunity and say yes. Want to try something new? Yes. Want to meet someone new? Yes. How about a life style change? Yes. Oh that didn't work out? It's ok, you'll figure it out. We're here when you need us. (Which yesterday, I totally did later, but that's another story.) I may not tackle things with style and fineness, but you know if you ask, I'll say yes, and I'll give it 100% of my effort, I'll laugh when I fall, I won't blame anyone else when things go wrong, and I'll be grateful every moment for the love and support of those around me.

This may or may not give an idea of this feat. 

Darron got video! 

http://youtu.be/gVmwWN3naow

Meme for the day...

The Tulip Ride....

Talk about a great fundraising idea.  Let's get on our motorcycles, grab some bagels, get a couple of adorable movie stars who ride, and raise some money for The Humane Society and The Red Cross!  Ok!  Let's go!  Sunday, April 27th, was my first group street ride.  It followed a sleepless night, where I almost bailed on the ride, but I am ever so glad I went.  First, it was nice not to be the beginningest beginner on the ride.  (The poor dear with the messenger bag... I don't know the story, but he or she seemed to struggle to keep up!)  But that wasn't the point.  This was a ride to bring the community together and have a good time.  And it was truly amazing to crest a hill on I5 and see bikes as far as the eye could see.  It was cool to ride the back roads as a group; to look behind me and see the same tinted orange windscreen the entire ride, without knowing who that windscreen belonged to.  It was fun at the tulips to have someone come on up and say "thank's for letting us in on the freeway!"   When you are with other riders, there is no shortage of things to talk about.  We compare rides, bikes, dreams, and adventures, as well as mishaps, close calls and past accidents.  We liberally give out unsolicited advice with the best of intentions.

And then we face the weather.  Rain or shine, around here, riders are riding.  On our way home, we saw sun, light rain, heavy rain, and hail.  And then sun again. I suppose somewhere in this ride there were tulips.  Nathan and I got a cute picture in front of some. But it reinforced the idea that the destination is never the point.  Sure, it was nice to have a hot dog and pop.  But the real reason for going is the ride; the tourist attractions simply happen to give us a reason to stop for a bite to eat.

Which I find to be a wonderful (though needing often repetition) life lesson.  When we get too focused on the shoulds, the musts, the fantasy, or the plan, we miss the beauty of life rolling by.  We forget to enjoy the stunning views, the intense smells, and the earth vibrating under us.  We look at our phones and miss the deer, we are so busy working on our calendar, we don't have time to go for a walk, we worry so much about the future, we forget to enjoy the moment.  That day, I remembered that life is a journey, not a destination.

City Hall...

Tuesday night, we were at Cycle Gear, and a guy said "check out our meetup.  We're going to City Hall Thursday for Taco Thursday."  Thursday came, we decided we had some free time, so off we went! Enjoying the back roads from Kent to Enumclaw, we wound our way, with only a couple of U-turns, and arrived at City Hall.  Where we found 3 sport bikes, a triumph, and about 837 Harley Davidson's.  Ok... Now, when we did the tulip ride, there were hundreds of bikes of all makes and models.  It was amazing to be out with so much variety, and feel so connected.  At City Hall Saloon, while everyone was super nice and the taco's were great, there was not as much diversity.  It was a bit strange to be surrounded by motorcycles, and feel a bit out of place.  The entertaining part was that it did feel just like a movie... Live band, lots of beer, beer bottles clanking in the garbage, and leather and tattoos everywhere.  It was fun to be outside with the band, watching the bikes come and go past on the side roads.

I don't know that I have a great lesson from this story, but if you want good tacos, great music, and lots of chrome, go to Taco Thursday's at City Hall Saloon in Enumclaw.

First overnight motorcycle trip...

Yesterday (ok, this post is slightly delayed), we spontaneously decided to walk the dog, hop on our motorcycles, and see where the road led.  I knew highway 2 was supposed to be beautiful, so I found a way up there using all the windy back country roads.  We got up to highway 2, headed east, and enjoyed the beauty.  After a while, I pulled over, pulled out a map, and said "where should we spend the night?  Leavenworth!  Back on the road for the highway 2 fun.  If you haven't been to Leavenworth, it's an adorable tourist town that Nathan could tell you the history and geology of, but from what I know, there are lots of pubs, during October fest, there are polka bands on every corner (which is actually like four, because the town is so small), there is amazing food, wine, and BEER!  Here's a picture that I snapped really quick; doesn't begin to capture the magic.

It was a little over three hours, taking the long way there.  The mountain pass was CHILLY!  By the time I got there, I had nearly forgotten how to use the clutch and brakes.  And my hands didn't really want to move anyway.  But it all worked out.

This morning, I found out about day two tiredness.  I was lethargic, slow moving, slow thinking.... Basically a sloth.  A sloth with a brunch date.  In Seattle.  So I counted on a shower, tea, and the rev of the engine to wake me up.  It did.  We went back the "short" way (only 2.5 hours).  

Today created an inward journey.  I suppose until the last two weeks, I've had an underlying apprehension about our honeymoon trip.  12 days is a long time to spend on a motorcycle, especially for a new rider.  In the last two weeks, I feel like I've graduated from a new rider to a rider with some things to learn.  This trip was awesome; it really let me practice what the 12 day trip will be like; from t-shirt weather to heated gear as warm as it will go weather, from long, boring freeway stretches to mountain pass curves; from commuters to Sunday drivers.  And I got to feel, and overcome the second day lethargy.  The soreness, the brain tiredness, and, on the plus side, the increased skill.  

The inward journey was about the curves.  Riding a motorcycle for me has been a series of instructions that don't fit very well together.  I've gotta ease off the clutch and roll on the throttle, counter-lean in the slow turns, counter-steer in the fast ones.  Chin toward wrist, weight on which peg, you want me to turn a blinker on and off?  When?  With which hand? But as it has come together, the brain has created a special path for the bike.  Curves bring my eyes to a new place, relax my body into a lean angle, and automatically adjust my speed.

As I have gotten comfortable, I can see how all I am doing is balancing the forces in motion.  So much like life, if you are proactive and know how to balance, it will feel smooth and natural.  But when things strike you suddenly, you have to make quick yet careful corrections.  But not matter what, the forces in motion want to stay in motion, and forces at rest want to stay at rest, and in life, it's knowing which adjustment to make in order to maintain balance.

I am a motorcyclist...

I had a strange realization the other day; due to extraneous circumstances, I drove my car to work.  As I left the building for the day, without my helmet and gear, I did not feel like my "self."  Nathan has talked before about riding as becoming part of identity.  I haven't disagreed, but I haven't felt like a motorcyclist in the past.  I've felt like a dirt biker, but to me that's like someone who works a day job and plays in a band or climbs rocks on the weekend.  Somehow, riding two wheels every single days has started to transform my identity. 

Which got me thinking about Erickson's Stages of Identity Development, and how it relates to rider identity development.

Trust vs. Mistrust
When I am on a motorcycle, I have to trust myself.  There's no one to blame for my mistakes.  I take full responsibility for the risk I am undertaking.  As a child, this identity crisis is parent dependent.  As a motorcyclist, it is self-concept dependent.

Autonomy vs. Shame and Doubt
As a new rider, it was hard to set out by myself.  I'd come home and "confess" all my mistakes of the day.  There were times I doubted I could become a competent, safe rider.  But I pushed myself.  It was a bit like cutting the umbilical cord.  I had to make my own mistakes, recover from them and learn from them to learn to ride.  I had to learn to act, and not let my self-doubt inhibit my learning.

Initiative vs. Guilt
The first time I dropped my bike, I felt like I was going to be in trouble.  With who, I don't know, but Nathan was the nearest human.  The fallout from this mistake was that we had to make repairs, and I couldn't ride until my bike was fixed.  While this was a bummer, it was a great lesson to me that I can take risks, and deal with the consequences.  It continued to build my trust and autonomy.

Industry vs. Inferiority
When I feel inferior, I hesitate about riding.  This keeps me from doing the very thing I need to do to improve.  Industry is all about doing.  I have learned that outside of occasional VERY bad weather, nothing need keep me off my bike.

Identity vs. Role Confusion
Ah, the motorcycling teen years.  "I waved to another rider, but I feel like a fraud.  I don't feel like a real motorcyclist."  Here I was, riding every day, but I saw my weaknesses and my mistakes, and thought that kept me from being a real rider.  Something shifted inside of me.  I pushed myself to do what scared me, gained some skills, learned to risk.  And suddenly I found myself.  A motorcyclist.

Generativity vs. Stagnation
This is my current lesson, though in my view, the others are never mastered, simply practiced.  I don't want any of my skills to plateau.  It can happen to anyone.  We get comfortable, we think we've "got it".  But the trick to staying safe is always pushing to improve.  If we practice panic swerves hundreds of times, that debris that falls of the truck will instinctually be avoided.  If we practice our panic stops, we have our best chance of not hitting a deer that jumps out. 

Ego Integrity vs. Despair
This is a stage beyond me.  A stage where one looks back and reflects on "was it ok to be me?" Or in this analogy "Did I like the motorcyclist I became?"  It is my hope that with continued focus on my development, that I can face this stage with courage, confidence, and peace.