pcflvly
Well-known member
I said good morning when I walked in. I'd already ridden twenty-five miles and hadn't seen anyone, so it was still my morning although I had no idea what time it really was. She replied, "No, good afternoon". I asked, "Can a guy get morning coffee in the afternoon here?" She smiled and replied, "Of course".
I'd woken up chilly again but not until six and made coffee wrapped in my cloak at my camp by Big Pine Creek. There was a lot of traffic, and by lot I mean a small amount but relative to how much traffic there had been over the past few days, it was rush hour. I found out later when I saw several packed parking lots at the country churches that they were all going to Easter morning sunrise services.
Easter found me too and I found Easter eggs. Actual oval white eggs. The first one was perfectly rested in the leaves at the bottom of the low stone lined ditch. It looked like a chicken might have laid it right there. It was unwashed. I rode past it at first. Not believing my eyes, I turned around. I couldn't tell if it was boiled, raw, or rotten. I picked it up anyway. It was Easter morning and I travel with the intent to notice when metaphors manifest. I packed the egg, looked around for the Easter bunny, and rode on.
About an eighth of a mile up the road and around the corner, there were two more eggs. I stopped right away this time. One of them was cracked open and empty and the other was like the first. I still couldn't tell their condition so I cracked one hoping for a fresh hard boiled egg that I could eat right then. It was raw but good so I figured the one I was carrying was good too and rode on.
I rode on twenty five miles to that store in Fancy Gap where for me it was still morning and I was telling the clerk that not only was it the morning of the day, it was the morning of spring too and, speaking of the symbolism in the commemoration of the resurrection I said, "The Sun was reborn this morning". She smiled again. I knew without asking that she had a kind faith and I wanted to build up her potential for spiritual understanding. Making it real, that stage. She knew what was going on and was quite grateful.
While the clerk and I were uplifting each other, a man came in excited and curious because he'd seen a fully loaded bike core cyclist's rig out front of the store. I admitted to being the rider. He greeted me then went to the back of the store while the young woman and I finished up and stepped out of our sacred moment.
The interested man came outside shortly after I did and asked how far I'd traveled. He struggled with it a minute but finally wrapped his mind around my answer and he just had one question, "Where was it prettiest?"
I didn't know what to answer at first. I'm sure I said something like, "beauty is infinite and dependent on perspective" and while he wrapped his mind around that one, I told him about when I thought I'd finally reached the most beautiful place yet and as a result learned how to check my thoughts. Practicing awareness of beauty increases ones capacity to perceive beauty.
While I expounded on this method to enhance our higher consciousness, a woman walked over and patiently waited for me to reach my conclusion. When I did, she approached me with a folded bill in her hand and put it in mine. As we touched, I thanked her and she replied, "I've had five surgeries and I'm going to meet Jesus soon". She was joyful. She didn't want prayers. She just wanted to give because she knew her gift was coming. I said, "I'll see you there". And I will. I know I will.
The interested man had gotten back in his car while the angel and I began talking but when he saw her giving me money, he got back out and also handed me a folded bill. He left before she did. I didn't look until later but each of them had given me a twenty.
It was a steep climb up to Groundhog Mountain from there. Granny Puckett's cabin still stands up there. She lived from 1837 - 1939 and found her calling when she was fifty. From then until she was a hundred and two, she delivered more than a thousand babies. Most for a dollar but when times were good, up to six dollars.
The descent from Groundhog Mountain was the prettiest place yet, at least since yesterday. I could have honestly told the interested man that the most beautiful place was always around the next corner. This was actually a step above. The parkway ran through a mature forest footed with thick stands of rhododendron.
The beauty put me in a reverie. A serene peace so profound that I knew to remind myself to watch the road. The encounters at Fancy Gap had surely primed me for this. It's one of the benefits of having a profoundly receptive beauty detector too. It was a long and beatific stretch.
I rode past Meadows of Dan and stopped at Mabry Mill. A car stopped and the back door opened from out of which stepped a matriarch from the past, a woman bedecked in tasteful old Easter clothes that she'd likely made herself. The couple in the front seat were her descendants. The man had an Elvis haircut which, outside of impersonators, has likely not been seen since the seventies. The old woman posed them in front of the mill. The couple was so beautiful that I walked by and told them so, just before she took their picture. Already glowing, they were glorified in the compliment and might have taken the best picture of their lives.
From there it was a long curved climb up to Rocky Knob. I got mad respect from a group of motorcyclists who passed me on the climb. They each raised a fist or flashed peace signs. It was a tough hill.
I'd ridden fifty-five miles by then and, even though I would have liked to have reached Floyd, I was too exhausted to continue and stopped at the Rocky Knob picnic area. It's a no camping allowed area but was closed for the season and I quite simply could not ride any farther.
After scouting a spot but before moving to it, a Jesus hippy pulled in. We became friends. I was quite open from all the beauty and from the profound encounters I'd experienced that day so shared the secret teachings.
I made camp then, built a fire, and made the most delicious egg drop soup with the fresh egg that had been a gift of the holyday.
I'd woken up chilly again but not until six and made coffee wrapped in my cloak at my camp by Big Pine Creek. There was a lot of traffic, and by lot I mean a small amount but relative to how much traffic there had been over the past few days, it was rush hour. I found out later when I saw several packed parking lots at the country churches that they were all going to Easter morning sunrise services.
Easter found me too and I found Easter eggs. Actual oval white eggs. The first one was perfectly rested in the leaves at the bottom of the low stone lined ditch. It looked like a chicken might have laid it right there. It was unwashed. I rode past it at first. Not believing my eyes, I turned around. I couldn't tell if it was boiled, raw, or rotten. I picked it up anyway. It was Easter morning and I travel with the intent to notice when metaphors manifest. I packed the egg, looked around for the Easter bunny, and rode on.
About an eighth of a mile up the road and around the corner, there were two more eggs. I stopped right away this time. One of them was cracked open and empty and the other was like the first. I still couldn't tell their condition so I cracked one hoping for a fresh hard boiled egg that I could eat right then. It was raw but good so I figured the one I was carrying was good too and rode on.
I rode on twenty five miles to that store in Fancy Gap where for me it was still morning and I was telling the clerk that not only was it the morning of the day, it was the morning of spring too and, speaking of the symbolism in the commemoration of the resurrection I said, "The Sun was reborn this morning". She smiled again. I knew without asking that she had a kind faith and I wanted to build up her potential for spiritual understanding. Making it real, that stage. She knew what was going on and was quite grateful.
While the clerk and I were uplifting each other, a man came in excited and curious because he'd seen a fully loaded bike core cyclist's rig out front of the store. I admitted to being the rider. He greeted me then went to the back of the store while the young woman and I finished up and stepped out of our sacred moment.
The interested man came outside shortly after I did and asked how far I'd traveled. He struggled with it a minute but finally wrapped his mind around my answer and he just had one question, "Where was it prettiest?"
I didn't know what to answer at first. I'm sure I said something like, "beauty is infinite and dependent on perspective" and while he wrapped his mind around that one, I told him about when I thought I'd finally reached the most beautiful place yet and as a result learned how to check my thoughts. Practicing awareness of beauty increases ones capacity to perceive beauty.
While I expounded on this method to enhance our higher consciousness, a woman walked over and patiently waited for me to reach my conclusion. When I did, she approached me with a folded bill in her hand and put it in mine. As we touched, I thanked her and she replied, "I've had five surgeries and I'm going to meet Jesus soon". She was joyful. She didn't want prayers. She just wanted to give because she knew her gift was coming. I said, "I'll see you there". And I will. I know I will.
The interested man had gotten back in his car while the angel and I began talking but when he saw her giving me money, he got back out and also handed me a folded bill. He left before she did. I didn't look until later but each of them had given me a twenty.
It was a steep climb up to Groundhog Mountain from there. Granny Puckett's cabin still stands up there. She lived from 1837 - 1939 and found her calling when she was fifty. From then until she was a hundred and two, she delivered more than a thousand babies. Most for a dollar but when times were good, up to six dollars.
The descent from Groundhog Mountain was the prettiest place yet, at least since yesterday. I could have honestly told the interested man that the most beautiful place was always around the next corner. This was actually a step above. The parkway ran through a mature forest footed with thick stands of rhododendron.
The beauty put me in a reverie. A serene peace so profound that I knew to remind myself to watch the road. The encounters at Fancy Gap had surely primed me for this. It's one of the benefits of having a profoundly receptive beauty detector too. It was a long and beatific stretch.
I rode past Meadows of Dan and stopped at Mabry Mill. A car stopped and the back door opened from out of which stepped a matriarch from the past, a woman bedecked in tasteful old Easter clothes that she'd likely made herself. The couple in the front seat were her descendants. The man had an Elvis haircut which, outside of impersonators, has likely not been seen since the seventies. The old woman posed them in front of the mill. The couple was so beautiful that I walked by and told them so, just before she took their picture. Already glowing, they were glorified in the compliment and might have taken the best picture of their lives.
From there it was a long curved climb up to Rocky Knob. I got mad respect from a group of motorcyclists who passed me on the climb. They each raised a fist or flashed peace signs. It was a tough hill.
I'd ridden fifty-five miles by then and, even though I would have liked to have reached Floyd, I was too exhausted to continue and stopped at the Rocky Knob picnic area. It's a no camping allowed area but was closed for the season and I quite simply could not ride any farther.
After scouting a spot but before moving to it, a Jesus hippy pulled in. We became friends. I was quite open from all the beauty and from the profound encounters I'd experienced that day so shared the secret teachings.
I made camp then, built a fire, and made the most delicious egg drop soup with the fresh egg that had been a gift of the holyday.
