pcflvly
Well-known member
Making progress on my next book, "Pipe Carrier" where I ride from St. Mary's, Georgia through Montreal to Minneapolis. It was part of a mostly penniless journey through eight countries and 48 US states. Three of the books are already published in a series called "Travels as Peaceful Valley Walker" which you can find online. Here are the first couple of pages from this next book. Comments are welcome.
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The public dock in St. Mary’s, Georgia was still busted up from Hurricane Irma so we tied up to the seawall. A man from another boat, unasked, carried my panniers up the ramp to a promenade above the river.
As I wheeled my bike ashore, I thought about how long I would keep doing this and when I did, it was with the realization that every other cycle of my life had lasted ten years; ten years on the road, ten years a treeplanter, ten years a scholar, and ten years a caretaker. Whatever cycle this was, I was almost two years into it and although I was only just coming into a mind of what exactly was going on, it was a path as clear as a trail in the woods, likely another one of these ten year things.
Just crossing the bay had been a certain indicator that I was still on mission. Nobody was going that way but when I explained myself to the harbormaster, he was compelled to find me a ride across. I spoke of my vision, as simple as that, and this wasn’t the first time that the world bent to fulfill it. My words demonstrated a unity of heart which allowed for the presence of truth and I had some great facility for sharing this. This centrality of purpose astounded people and they invariably wanted to help. All I wanted was unity of heart and for me, this was quite easily found.
Honestly, I didn’t know what to think of this but there was something going on. In many ways the significance of all these encounters made me want to hide and over the coming months I would relish the solitude of the trail. I didn’t know then what heavens this road would lead me to but I knew my strengths; all fears were gone and the peace I found was sharable. There was a connection to the heart of people, a unity which lent purpose, and I carried the love of everyone I’d met.
While I was at it, I counted my doubts too, and over the previous two years there were only about ten of them, none of which lasted very long. I was stronger and happier than I'd ever been, lacking for nothing. Neither was there anything which I had given up that I wanted and I didn’t look at this as a sacrifice but if it was, it was a small price to pay for freedom, purpose, and joy.
After thanking the captain and exchanging courtesies with the family who had helped me with my things, I rode on into Georgia. It was my thirtieth state by bicycle. Along the way, I pedaled through seven other countries. Except for two short rides in emergencies and a flight back from Costa Rica, it had been a continuous human powered journey of about sixteen thousand miles. Within a few miles I would reach the East Coast Greenway which ran all the way to Canada.
St. Mary’s historic district with its colonial buildings and true heritage was a fitting welcome to the state. I felt the history, it was steeped there; the buildings and even the street I rolled along spoke of it. Some of the trees looked old enough to have seen it themselves and I thought about all the battles which played out just across the bay in Fernandina. Modern St Mary’s was past all of that and the new city was quite ordinary with strip malls by the highway and gas stations at the junction.
At a grocery store along the way, a woman asked if I needed anything. Of course I didn’t. What could I need? I didn’t want the idea of needing anything in my consciousness. I had abundance and was thankful for it. I was quite often out of things… Yet, I stayed in mansions and the tables were always spread before me. I also fully realized that being without something was sometimes an abundance in its own right. One of the core tenets of my practice was, “I have nothing to have it all,” and I genuinely didn’t need anything. Then I wondered if perhaps she needed something. I could give her a gift; but she wouldn’t take it, she didn’t even want to know what it was. I think it confused her that I’d turned the tables, she wanted to give, not receive, and I had to say, “They’re just stickers and they only cost me pennies to make,” before she would take them.
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The public dock in St. Mary’s, Georgia was still busted up from Hurricane Irma so we tied up to the seawall. A man from another boat, unasked, carried my panniers up the ramp to a promenade above the river.
As I wheeled my bike ashore, I thought about how long I would keep doing this and when I did, it was with the realization that every other cycle of my life had lasted ten years; ten years on the road, ten years a treeplanter, ten years a scholar, and ten years a caretaker. Whatever cycle this was, I was almost two years into it and although I was only just coming into a mind of what exactly was going on, it was a path as clear as a trail in the woods, likely another one of these ten year things.
Just crossing the bay had been a certain indicator that I was still on mission. Nobody was going that way but when I explained myself to the harbormaster, he was compelled to find me a ride across. I spoke of my vision, as simple as that, and this wasn’t the first time that the world bent to fulfill it. My words demonstrated a unity of heart which allowed for the presence of truth and I had some great facility for sharing this. This centrality of purpose astounded people and they invariably wanted to help. All I wanted was unity of heart and for me, this was quite easily found.
Honestly, I didn’t know what to think of this but there was something going on. In many ways the significance of all these encounters made me want to hide and over the coming months I would relish the solitude of the trail. I didn’t know then what heavens this road would lead me to but I knew my strengths; all fears were gone and the peace I found was sharable. There was a connection to the heart of people, a unity which lent purpose, and I carried the love of everyone I’d met.
While I was at it, I counted my doubts too, and over the previous two years there were only about ten of them, none of which lasted very long. I was stronger and happier than I'd ever been, lacking for nothing. Neither was there anything which I had given up that I wanted and I didn’t look at this as a sacrifice but if it was, it was a small price to pay for freedom, purpose, and joy.
After thanking the captain and exchanging courtesies with the family who had helped me with my things, I rode on into Georgia. It was my thirtieth state by bicycle. Along the way, I pedaled through seven other countries. Except for two short rides in emergencies and a flight back from Costa Rica, it had been a continuous human powered journey of about sixteen thousand miles. Within a few miles I would reach the East Coast Greenway which ran all the way to Canada.
St. Mary’s historic district with its colonial buildings and true heritage was a fitting welcome to the state. I felt the history, it was steeped there; the buildings and even the street I rolled along spoke of it. Some of the trees looked old enough to have seen it themselves and I thought about all the battles which played out just across the bay in Fernandina. Modern St Mary’s was past all of that and the new city was quite ordinary with strip malls by the highway and gas stations at the junction.
At a grocery store along the way, a woman asked if I needed anything. Of course I didn’t. What could I need? I didn’t want the idea of needing anything in my consciousness. I had abundance and was thankful for it. I was quite often out of things… Yet, I stayed in mansions and the tables were always spread before me. I also fully realized that being without something was sometimes an abundance in its own right. One of the core tenets of my practice was, “I have nothing to have it all,” and I genuinely didn’t need anything. Then I wondered if perhaps she needed something. I could give her a gift; but she wouldn’t take it, she didn’t even want to know what it was. I think it confused her that I’d turned the tables, she wanted to give, not receive, and I had to say, “They’re just stickers and they only cost me pennies to make,” before she would take them.
