How an Adrenaline Junkie Found Peace on a 1000cc Superbike
The following is an edited excerpt from the new book, Riding Raw: A Journey from Empty to Full, by Sue Hollis.
As tough as it was to quit my role in the company I had started, I knew it was the only way I could begin to take control of my out-of-control life. For the first time ever, I’d listened to the voice in my head (the one I usually dismissed as being schizophrenic), and I’d stopped fighting.
No hesitation, no second guessing, no thinking, “If I just work harder, everything will be OK.” I put my shield down, and I walked away. Peacefully, calmly, confidently.
That is, for all of about thirty-two seconds before the “Holy shit, what now?!” panic kicked in.
You know that moment — when it seems like such a great idea at first but then reality hits? I’d made this grand gesture and was courageously stepping away from the life I knew, but now what?
It’s one thing to realise you have to heal yourself, but it’s another to know how to do it. I had no idea where to start. What do I do, where do I go, what do I learn, what do I change? How do I fill this enormous hole in my heart that’s threatening to engulf me?
Innately, I knew the solution had to be in doing something completely opposite to everything I’d ever done. I hadn’t found the answers in action, achievement, or adrenaline, so I figured maybe it was about having space and stillness.
Maybe I just needed to be by myself.
There were so many things I needed to work through, and I knew I needed to work through them alone. I’d gotten myself into this mess, so it was up to me to find a way out. (Still a solo player.)
Finding My Path
So, what were my options? Meditation? Nope. I’d rather watch paint dry than sit in silence. Yoga? Not enough colour and movement. (I’ve always thought if you sped yoga up, you could get it over and done with in twenty minutes.) Retreats? Nope. I’m not big on navel-gazing in Bali. Spiritual advisors? Well, they were only going to tell me to meditate. Ashrams in India, walking the North Pole, climbing Everest, learning to base jump — they were all on the list. But nothing felt right. For a couple of weeks, I wandered aimlessly, drowning in confusion.
Where was that damn guiding voice when I needed it to help me know what to do?
Turns out, it was right there all along.
In the middle of the night, I bolted upright in bed. There, finally, were just two words: go ride.
Of course! How had I not known? That’s where my heart is. That’s where my soul is alive. I need to ride. I’ve got questions to answer and wounds to heal. I’ve got armour to drop and spears to lay down. I’ve got layers to unpeel and truths to reveal.
I have to slow down, to drift, to float, to be free. To be able to follow my feelings, to connect, to create space. To just be. I need space, I need to breathe, I need to be alone.
I need the silence of my helmet.
I need to ride.
And what do I want to ride? A beautiful, 1000 cc superbike called Voodoo. So much for slowing down, finding peace, and letting go of adrenaline.
Oh, well. I can’t break all my old habits at once.
For more incredible stories and lessons from Sue’s 83-day solo motorcycle journey across the states, you can read her book, Riding Raw: A Journey from Empty to Full.
