each week I check the upcoming weather and make a biking plan, which, albeit flexible, is still the backbone of my week.
on our beautifully stormy tuesday I decided that I would ride outside friday afternoon and saturday, when the weather was looking a little warmer and drier than earlier in the week.
so I actually slept in this morning, arising when it was (oh my gosh) somewhat light outside. I had a plan to fit in my ride between a few other "have-to's," and although my day was busy and full, I was determined to ride.
and then a few things came together that made it imperative that I ride.
today I rode for my mental health.
I didn't think I would be doing that, but by 2:45 this afternoon I couldn't get on my bike fast enough and pedal away from everything that was trying to pull me one way or another.
of course, these things came with me. I knew they would. but I also knew that by the end of my ride they would have changed into manageable issues, tame little bunnies that were just around to keep me hopping. no more the stampeding buffaloes they seemed to be midday.
and indeed, I returned home with just a few bunnies. and a calm demeanor. and a plan.
earlier this week I was assessing certain aspects of my life and asking the universe for a little bit of guidance. which way to go, to move or not to move, to open my mouth or not, to change something or another or to swallow and dig deeper. the answer I received was to "go now," and I was completely stumped. go where? (remember how literally I take everything.)
it wasn't as if I had asked "should I stay where I am or go do this new thing?" because I have no plan of a new thing. so to receive the answer to go, and to go now, left me confused and confounded.
so I asked for a little clarification.
I tried to meditate and let the answer come to me: nada.
I asked a few friends: nothing came to light.
I slept on it: zilch.
I slept on it again: only a teeny little glimmer of a thought.
and then came today, with it's push me-pull me conundrum of experiences, and the running out the door to get on my non-thinking machine, my bike.
and a few more messages for me to contemplate:
* a dozen or so cars passed me as I was riding up the canyon, and I glanced at all of their license plates. only one was obviously personalized, and I think it was also obviously personalized for me, as it read
* shortly thereafter I noticed that my bike was squeaking. yes, squeaking. I think it's coming from my pedals, more my left than my right, but this little (and sometimes not so little) squeak continued to dog me the entire ride.
* the skies have been overcast today, at times quite gray and committed to protecting us from the sun and blue above. but as I rode up emigration, I saw wide swaths of blue cutting holes in the gray, up near the top. and as I neared the top, I saw more and more blue, blue that brightened the entire area. the sun broke through for a few small moments, and I watched my shadow smile.
and what, you ask, makes these three things personal messages for me?
I know they are messages I was meant to receive, and this is what they mean.
ROOT: keep rooted, don't give up, dig into who I am even more firmly if needed.
SQUEAKS: the squeaky wheel gets the grease, doesn't it? start making noise, searching out that agent who will champion my writing, my books.
BLUE SKIES AHEAD: they are there. there is light at the end of my (what seems to be) never-ending tunnel. there is hope.
once again, I thank God for my bike.
and since it spoke so clearly to me today, I promise to give it some "grease" before I take it on its next adventure.