Friday, December 5, 2014

The Billionth, The First


Bicycle under the 202 freeway

I passed the same spot on my Tempe-Phoenix-Scottsdale TCT ride for the billionth time, and it felt like the first. The fresh air post rainfall. Warm and humid. Light winds. Bright sunshine. 

Photons streaming beneath the freeway hitting my retina triggering neurons triggering other neurons firing muscles pushing camera button letting other photons impinge on semiconductor photosensitive surface knocking loose electrons detected digitized processed stored copied off to computer later processed again uploaded to Internet posted on blog sent across Internet to your computer de-digitized converted back to electrons sent to your screen exciting LED sending light to your retina triggering neurons triggering other neurons in your brain: now. For the first time.

I took a breath and listened to the quiet sizzle of my tire on the asphalt down the tunnel of Friday afternoon. For the billionth time, for the first time. This new moment, this old river, on the same old ride, the same new me. Now.

I wanted to see all this from that point of view: beginner mind. 

The quail's wing feathers concuss the air near to me and I laugh at that real sound so solid I can touch it. The distant mountains with four peaks called Four Peaks frequently obscured by pollution but currently crystal clear after the rain and with the light winds in contrast have their own sound, like singing winds and cracking rocks. Wait if those mountains could sing they would sound like cactus wrens, except loud, low, and slooooooow. 

Time, it stands still. Time, it rolls on.

Bicycle under the 202 freeway
 

2 comments:

  1. Replies
    1. I feel like (except for the greenery) the color turned out flatter, and the BW richer, with this subject.

      Delete

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