Cycling to Stop the Cycle
As we riode this last stretch of the Cassiar Highway we again entered the silent reverence that struck us near the end of the Dempster. This is no ordinary
highway. To travel its course, particularly at the oh so human pace of a cyclist, to dive deep into the silence and symphony of solitude and be carried by the sense of awe is
a soul-changing event.
Although solitude can signify absolute absence of sound, more often than not we are surrounded by subtle murmurings of nature. Today, as the approaching autumn with its musky smell of death and decay, of a forest land that has passed its zenith and preparing itself for a long and deep winter respite, there is an almost constant buzz and shuffling sound as the drying leaves rustle in the tall cottonwoods or meeker birch. The wind jostles the limbs to life and suddenly it is like we are beside a fast river or a huge popcorn maker. Every glance seems to reward us with the sight of a leaf drifting to rest on the forest floor. It is Labour Day weekend, the traditional end of summer for Canadians and here, still far to t he north of where most call home, autumn's arrival is clearly not far away.
This day, like many others, began with us in the tent waiting for the rain to cease and has since turned into another glorious day of relative warmth and blue sky punctuated by high cirrus clouds like casual brush strokes on an artist's blue canvas and thicker cumulus clouds floating like cotton balls across the northern sky. The mountains surround us creating a corridor that we follow to the south. It was today that I realized the meaning of AWE.
Aligned With Earth, or perhaps At Oneness with Earth. That is the feeling one submits to when you live with the rhythm of this planet and her glory. Awe is the type of feeling that will bring tears to your eyes when you gaze at a distant mountain panorama, not so much because of the landscape, although that is definitely stirring, but out of forlorn regret that so much of our lives, when we are busy "taking care of business" in our offices, glued to our radiant screens, counting money and storing up for retirement, we miss the subtle rustle of the leaves, do not capture the beauty of a leaf floating earthward, neglect to smell the perfumes of fresh cut trees, the decay of the swamp, the cool mint from a mountain stream, the smells of death from animals that have completed their journey on this mother ship we call home. How mny days do we modern humans spend busy in our routines like ants in their subterranean dungeon and miss out on the pageantry of life this planet provides us?
And then the behemoths pass, semis and motor homes, cars and pickups. Like dinosaurs that we ride to our own extinction they pass us by and violate the solitude, silence and hushed murmurs of the forest. They break our concentration and awe for where we are. They require our attention, demand respect and fear. I hate them and what they represent. This could in no way be anywhere as intense a journey in a car. I wish everyone has the chance to travel at a pace propelled by human energy, the wind or water current. It makes the world a whole lot bigger, quieter and awe inspiring.
I now turn this machine off and return to AWE.
Although solitude can signify absolute absence of sound, more often than not we are surrounded by subtle murmurings of nature. Today, as the approaching autumn with its musky smell of death and decay, of a forest land that has passed its zenith and preparing itself for a long and deep winter respite, there is an almost constant buzz and shuffling sound as the drying leaves rustle in the tall cottonwoods or meeker birch. The wind jostles the limbs to life and suddenly it is like we are beside a fast river or a huge popcorn maker. Every glance seems to reward us with the sight of a leaf drifting to rest on the forest floor. It is Labour Day weekend, the traditional end of summer for Canadians and here, still far to t he north of where most call home, autumn's arrival is clearly not far away.
This day, like many others, began with us in the tent waiting for the rain to cease and has since turned into another glorious day of relative warmth and blue sky punctuated by high cirrus clouds like casual brush strokes on an artist's blue canvas and thicker cumulus clouds floating like cotton balls across the northern sky. The mountains surround us creating a corridor that we follow to the south. It was today that I realized the meaning of AWE.
Aligned With Earth, or perhaps At Oneness with Earth. That is the feeling one submits to when you live with the rhythm of this planet and her glory. Awe is the type of feeling that will bring tears to your eyes when you gaze at a distant mountain panorama, not so much because of the landscape, although that is definitely stirring, but out of forlorn regret that so much of our lives, when we are busy "taking care of business" in our offices, glued to our radiant screens, counting money and storing up for retirement, we miss the subtle rustle of the leaves, do not capture the beauty of a leaf floating earthward, neglect to smell the perfumes of fresh cut trees, the decay of the swamp, the cool mint from a mountain stream, the smells of death from animals that have completed their journey on this mother ship we call home. How mny days do we modern humans spend busy in our routines like ants in their subterranean dungeon and miss out on the pageantry of life this planet provides us?
And then the behemoths pass, semis and motor homes, cars and pickups. Like dinosaurs that we ride to our own extinction they pass us by and violate the solitude, silence and hushed murmurs of the forest. They break our concentration and awe for where we are. They require our attention, demand respect and fear. I hate them and what they represent. This could in no way be anywhere as intense a journey in a car. I wish everyone has the chance to travel at a pace propelled by human energy, the wind or water current. It makes the world a whole lot bigger, quieter and awe inspiring.
I now turn this machine off and return to AWE.
