Shamanic Motorcycling

Speed and grace are not the only goals on my ride. I long for magic too. For connection. As with any motorcyclist who strives for excellence, every ride requires managing the myriad intricacies of physics, risk assessment, and the balancing of euphoria and focus. Then of course there is also the pose. Breathing in confidence, breathing out fear. Good gear, a positive attitude and clear attention help keep me alive. But because I want more than to just be animate, the path I follow recognizes that everything has spirit.

I climb onto my Tiger, place my hands on the grips and sink in. I ask my guardian angels and guides for protection. I merge with the bike. I let my consciousness flow into the handlebars, along the electrics, down the frame, all the way to the rubber of the tires and into the road. I let the machine know how much I appreciate it. The trees who gave their sap, the minerals and alloys, the engineers who designed it, the people who tested and put it together in such a precise, beautiful way and shipped it across the ocean to me, the liquid ancestors in the tank -- all receive my gratitude.

Once underway, I send out “announcements”. Deer, we are coming - keep away! Animals, we bring danger. Keep away! My hands “hear” messages from the Earth, rumbling up through the pavement (dubbed affectionately by some biker genius as “Our Lady Asphaltia”) and into the machine. With practice, I can get the gist of a two-way communication through the 4 inches of road contact as we roll along.

“I support you I support you I support you,” PachaMama says. Of course, that is the literal truth I must appreciate and integrate. “Thank you thank you thank you,” I reply. Other messages come, through all the scents and sounds and things I feel and see. Cattle grazing, daffodils waving, blue mountains ranging, engine purring. Endless life, surging into being. Bless you all.

I bless indiscriminately. Not just because something may be broken, but because it is the one important thing I can do all the time, if I remember to stay present. As a form of reciprocity it is easy and fun, especially on the road. A blessing is just a gift of light energy, of chi, laid at the feet of the recipient. It is not my job to tell anyone or anything what to do with it. But it does only work for the higher good.

We hum along. There is a familiar curve ahead, racing toward my bike and I. Bless you, I say to the embankment. I downshift. I aim for the perfect heart of the curve, deep and high. Bless you, fog line. I accelerate along my chosen path. The bike leans over, sweeping in a sweet, delicious arc. Bless you, pavement, trees, rocks. Bless you, centrifugal force. As we kiss the apex, a car appears in the oncoming lane. Bless you. It drifts a fraction across the center line. Bless you, I send to the driver. Stick, bless you, stick, I send to my tires. You are so good at what you do. Bless you. I throttle on, straighten the bike, come upright and away, fast and smooth and still alive. Thank you thank you thank you.

I relax my hands and Lady Asphaltia laughs. “You use me, but don’t want to meet me face to face? Maybe next time? After all, I have vultures to feed!” Like most elemental beings, she has a cosmic sense of humor that doesn’t necessarily take my personal preferences into account.

“No, Lady, “ I say. “I must live to tell the tales of your glories. Bless you.” The gremlin bell hanging from the bike frame chimes as we skim over a bump on Lady Asphaltia’s otherwise smooth behind. I “hear” a shrug and a smile.

The channel closes and I ride home to eat, sleep, and clean the litter box – bless you, cats.

Where lies the magic, then? That wondrous connection and communion? It is literally everywhere, if we care to look for it. I find it in the interfaces of connection, in sensory conversations, and in the reciprocity and gratitude of relationships – with everything, and everyone. I try to breathe and observe, assess and bless, adjust and forgive. And like a dandelion on a sunny day, keep leaning toward the light. That’s what I call a miraculous ride.

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