Saturday, November 2, 2013

Solitude Riding: That Musical Voice

Eighty degrees, this bike, this canal, this day: all I wanted

Some people have music in their voice. I don't mean rising intonation or vocal fry, but something like lyrical poetry running through their words, when even a simple sentence sounds like "Ode to Joy". Hi, do you know how far this path goes? What's down that direction? What's over that way?

New chain + chainring

I mounted a new chain and slightly larger chain ring (46t)(still 16t White Ind. Eno in back) and went for a test ride along the Arizona Canal. Finding them extra smooth and spinny, I got a bit caught up in the ride, and kept on going, and going. It was also in part the glorious weather, the flow of extended solitude, and the adrenaline of seeing other riders out doing much the same. As is my nature on extended rides, I started pondering the opening sentence of this post. Perhaps triggered a bit by someone I spoke with.

Ride solo rider ride

The music in the voice must have a source. Something as deep and affecting as that, must come from somewhere. Is is a positive outlook? Amazing optimism? A stunning run of good luck? Or just joy in the ordinary, seeing each of these fleeting moments for the extraordinary once in a lifetime chances they are? Extracting gold from the ore that life sluices past in so much volume that there must be some in there somewhere? 

Or just this: enjoying solitude on a bike ride in a sunny and warm place, seeing what there is to see, feeling the wind blow and trying to take in the thousand and one things happening all around?

This happened while I was thinking that: evening liftoff

That musical voice defies explanation or definition, though. What I think, after hearing some actual vocal music, then riding off for more solitude: wherever it comes from, it starts from some inner source, something must fill it up and pour it out, and so turning inwards and listening closely, it might be possible to hear some of that yourself, from yourself. But is there any there to hear? But why not?

Just listen: it rings and laughs, as it plays its solo song out to you, with a rhythm that matches the spinning of your pedals, with a brightness that matches the sun. The truth is funny and strange when it comes to me, but it must be true: your music becomes my music, warm and blue as this sky, and mine becomes yours, as we sing to each other with our voices, and ride off on our own solo exercises of existence. How weird to need other people to be alone; how perfect.


  1. I'm envious. It was cold and windy here. But soon I'll be back in warmer regions!

    1. Steve, I don't think I described the musical voice as I planned, or contrasted it enough with the Noise that's Trying to Sell You Something, which bombards us always. But, anyway, the cold and wind are for the brave, and help us to appreciate the sunny and warm even more.


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