Friday, October 18, 2013

Yes I'm That Happy Cycling

The simple object of my sudden bliss

Every night on my ride home I pass this construction barrier in the canal with only the light showing above the water. It is surely a trivial and insignificant thing, of no great importance or significance to anyone, but it's something different in my visual field, yet a constant, and the way that it catches different flotsam and holds it against the current does cause me momentary pause just to see what it may have caught and held on any particular day.

On top of that, I kept wondering what it would look like if the light hit it just right. This is a factor of timing, position, and motion on my bike, as well as a matter of the sun changing position in the sky as the earth continues on its transit around the sun, and the seasons change. I kept thinking, if it all came together in one particular moment, there would be a flash of amber, a glint of sunlight on the water, a flash of brightness to catch the eye and freeze the mind. Thursday that happened as I passed it.

This transient phenomenon grabbed me

I grabbed the brakes and skidded a little fishtail around to go back and look. It was dead quiet except for the quiet flowing of the water. I can't explain why it made me so intensely happy or how it made me feel incredibly full of that moment, but it did. Possibly, it was some unconscious thing that had been working inside me for weeks, finally getting itself out triggered by sunlight on water flashing through an amber lens. Can't really explain it. But this happened.

I rode on from their with a big fat silly smile on my face. Laughing at the meaningless intensity and immensity I felt at so small a thing. As I rode back into traffic, a few drivers who were sitting stuck at the light looked at my face lit up by the setting sun, and I could read on their faces a reaction to my expression: can you possibly be that happy riding your bike home from work on a Thursday evening? Why yes, yes I'm that happy cycling. Why don't you give it a try, too, Thursday evening commuting drivers, and perhaps an ineffable moment of inexplicable bliss triggered by a small thing could be yours, too.

This juxtaposition keeps catching my eye, too. I think Something is going to happen here next, soon.


  1. For you it's public art, the sky, and sun glinting on flotsam. For me it's the autumn colors on steroids. Happy cycling.

    1. Happy cycling to you too, anniebikes. I think there should be cider somewhere in the schedule, too.


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