About controlling… bike and life
Moved out of the big city and set my home on farmland where biking (on and off road) is theoretically better and practically spoiled by the way society keeps basic infrastructure and by the inquisitive, greedy nature of the protectors of the same society.
Riding kept going and the habit of thinking while riding or riding while thinking never disappeared: going out on two wheels is still like sitting on the wooden benches of my lyceum and spending time learning. My story of parallel worlds and rides was always there with little desire to share it: “Riding is a way of thinking” true but silent.
A lack of desire is, in reality, a lack of discipline. Bike calls as masterful, attractive, intriguing teacher with the additional appeal of danger, a severe professor demanding attention as a matter of life or death. The banal answer? Usual violence… being in control.
We all like to be “in control”: it sounds safe and it looks cool. It goes from being in control of the can opener to being in control of life.
We tend to believe that being in control is a sign of knowledge and competence and we call “stupid” the ones who are surprised (stupefied) by reality, the ones who are not in control.
I was thinking about all this while riding recently: on the narrow mountain roads along the South coast of Turkey, everything happens so fast and in such a surprising way that challenges many ideas of control.
In my parallel world, I consider that we behave on the bike the same way we behave on life: we comfort ourselves with the dream of being at the centre and controlling what goes on around us; we are Ptolemy’s disciples, masters of the core and of the periphery. Copernicus for nothing: the geocentric system has been disproved centuries ago, and it is still in our personal system: me, the sun, versus the others, versus nature, asphalt, corners.
After all, I am a “competent rider” certified by documents from a well-reputed training organisation, I spent and I spend portion of my riding life under severe discipline and observation, learning the system from respected teachers. I have the right to be in control.
After all, I am an official manager, a certified wife or documented husband, a professional father or qualified mother, an approved whateveryouwant…
I have been trained to be in control, I have sufficient intelligence, experience and recognition to own the right to be in control. Reality will obey my rules, and I will change it at my will. This is why I train, isn’t it? So I can be in control, ride safely, and maybe telling peers how to do the same.
And then the road turns sharply, and the big truck is neither on its line nor on its lane.
And then there is no more space, and the abyss looks back at you.
And then that should not be there.
And then that piece of wood fells in front of one of the only two wheels available.
And then a tire goes, and the balance goes, and vertical turns to horizontal.
And then the dog jumps. And then you think, “I can control it”, and then you know you cannot control it.
And then you are surprised, and then you brace for impact. And then you are broken, wounded, dead.
And then you learn that “being in control” is just a dream, a nicely packed product that you can buy online but you cannot use in life.
Life is dependence and unity: the more you live and the more you abandon the attempt to be in control: a simple process of learning how to flow with time, space, and the seven billion of cells that we call humans.
Living the impermanence, knowing that everything changes and all transforms outside of our control but within our awareness, sounds to me like a good recipe for happy learning. And a good recipe for happy riding.
