Greeting to Spring (Not Without Trepidation)
Posted: March 5, 2015 Filed under: Kindness, Meditation, Yoga | Tags: blogging, compassion, Identity, kindness, life, love, meditation, nature, passion, Poetry, Prose, Robert Lax, writing, yoga Leave a comment…
Over the back of the Florida basker,
over the froth of the Firth of Forth,
Up from Tahiti and Madagascar,
Lo, the sun walks north.
The first bright day makes sing the slackers
While leaves explode like firecrackers,
The duck flies forth to greet the spring
And sweetly municipal pigeons sing.
Where the duck quacks, where the bird sings,
We will speak of past things.
Come out with your marbles, come out with your Croup,
The grass is as green as a Girl Scout troop;
In the Mall the stone acoustics stand
Like a listening ear for the Goldman band.
At an outside table, where the sun’s bright glare is,
We will speak of darkened Paris.
Meanwhile, like attendants who hasten the hoofs
Of the ponies who trot in the shadow of roofs,
The sun, in his running, will hasten the plan
Of plants and fishes, beast and man.
We’ll turn our eyes to the sogging ground
And guess if the earth is cracked or round.
Over the plans of the parties at strife,
Over the planes in the waiting north,
Over the average man and his wife,
Lo, the sun walks forth!
– Robert Lax
: Local :
Posted: March 2, 2015 Filed under: Kindness, Meditation, Yoga | Tags: biking, cycling, Identity, nature, Omaha, social media, Support Local Business, writing 16 CommentsIt’s possible to walk out of your house with “local” footsteps, printing them one by one till they go on to make “global” consequences! Go, make a safe journey-
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I’m standing in a local bike shop, with narrow isles, bins and shelves filled with artifacts of a bygone world; hundreds of bicycling parts waiting to be saved and enjoyed once more. No fancy racks or displays showcasing the newest technology, grease stained shop rags tossed on a well used repair stand, an aging frame leaning in one corner, another new frame packed and ready for shipping to a new cyclist. There are quite a few customers of all ages steaming in early this morning as I think to myself – I have made the conscious decision of supporting my local shop instead of the convenience and bargains found online. And this experience, is what I prefer.
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Sheets of colorful cycling stickers and build sheets brighten the worn workbench. Vintage wheel-sets hang above the display cases below casting a playful glow from their chrome finish. And the superb aroma of chain cleaner and lubricants wafting in the air near the used bikes for sale on the shop floor. What better setting for a custom wheel build
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Daily Meditation:
While many of us mourn the loss of an expired Groupon deal or online savings code, I mourn the loss of a deeper social function in our society – Local workmanship and community. Local bike shops are struggling, yet they have something precious that is vanishing from our more digital and connected/convenient world – Real people, doing real, honest work. All of this is conveniently awaiting you at your local bike shop.
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Sincere gratitude and – Thank You – to the crew at Re-cycle Bike Shop here in our fair city – Omaha, NE. A big thanks to Onyx Racing Products, Velocity and Phil Wood & Co. for producing first-rate, Made in ‘Murica products. And what better way to test them by riding across a frozen lake in March!
: Live Long and Prosper :
Posted: February 27, 2015 Filed under: Kindness | Tags: Leonard Nimoy 10 CommentsThe miracle is this – the more we share, the more we have-
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Rest in peace my friend.
How About : You :
Posted: February 27, 2015 Filed under: Kindness, Meditation, Yoga | Tags: beauty, Bicycling, blogging, Comminity, cycling, hate, kindness, love, meditation, Omaha, passion, social media, Urban Transportation, writting, yoga 18 CommentsI left my youth behind me. It peddled the bicycle while I rode on the handlebars-
” … Get a car you ironically tattoo adorned, Lycra sporting hipster!!!” I remember these harsh words as though they were strewn upon me yesterday morning, instead of two months ago commuting to work on bike.
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Was I shocked? Somewhat. I was simply making a right hand turn after stopping at a stop sign at 5am, when over my left shoulder, I was spewed vile hatred upon by some dude. I thought briefly about trying to catch up with him, and having a gentlemanly conversation. Instead, I simply put my head down and set a good pace up the next few hills that eagerly awaited me.
What worries my heart the most, is the need to make these flippant remarks in the first place. It makes me wonder about our current human nature and the impulse or desire to engage in this kind of behavior. The kind of behavior we witness online, where our words carry a great weight with little or no courage, to form a coherent and critical response.
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Why does it bother someone if I ride to work on my bike? Have tattoos and practice yoga? Why do people feel the need to project hatred and vomit at every turn? Kindness and love have been cast ad acta, a relic of a bygone world. We live in a world now where a fussilade of hate awaits us around every corner in life.
Daily Meditation:
As we gently ease into March this coming weekend. The undercurrents of my posts will warm to the wonders that cycling and nature so kindly present us. I hope you tag along for the ride …
For a Five-Year-Old
Posted: February 26, 2015 Filed under: Kindness, Meditation, Yoga | Tags: Children, Fleur Adcock, Identity, Internet, life, parenting, Poetry, Seva, Spring, writing, yoga 1 Comment…
A snail is climbing up the window-sill
into your room, after a night of rain.
You call me in to see and I explain
that it would be unkind to leave it there:
it might crawl to the floor; we must take care
that no one squashes it. You understand,
and carry it outside, with careful hand,
to eat a daffodil.
I see, then, that a kind of faith prevails:
your gentleness is moulded still by words
from me, who have trapped mice and shot wild birds,
from me, who drowned your kittens, who betrayed
your closest relatives and who purveyed
the harshest kind of truth to many another,
But that is how things are: I am your mother,
And we are kind to snails.
CultFit 