THANKFUL FRIDAY
Cindy Maddera
Michael told me that Monday would not be a scooter day for me, but when I got up that morning and looked outside, the sky looked mostly clear. I checked my weather app and did not see anything that would keep me from riding my scooter. Part of me thought it was just Michael not wanting to move vehicles around because he needed his truck that day. So, I moved my car out of his way and then hopped on the scooter to head to work. There were some ominous looking clouds to my east, remnants of the storm that had moved through during the early morning hours and I had to admit that there were some pretty dark and ominous clouds to my west. But in that moment, where I was, the sky was clear and not a drop fell on me as I rode to work.
A few hours later, the sky turned grey dark and rain poured down. There was thunder and lightening and strong winds. Everyones’ phones alerted them to flash flood warnings. A woman even died while walking a trail that Michael and I ride bikes on because of a flash flood. The sky remained grey and heavy with rain for most of the day. I don’t know when I noticed that the rain had stopped. Sometime after lunchish? The sky remained cloud covered but the sun was making an appearance here and there. When my work was done for the day, I hopped on my scooter, once again riding in dry conditions. Michael just shook his head at me when I got home. “I can’t believe you rode your scooter today.” he said. His tone did not shows signs that he was impressed, but more ‘you should know better’.
In those moments when I was riding, the sky was clear.
In those moments.
There’s a story my yoga teacher told me years ago about Yogananda where he was scheduled to be speaking at some conference. The person in charge of picking him up from the airport and getting him to the conference was stressed because things were not going as planned. The flight had been delayed. Everything was taking more time than necessary. She was sure that he was going to be late for his speaking engagement. But after waiting forever for his bag and rushing through traffic, Yogananda stepped out onto the stage at exactly the right time for his talk. The lesson was “Do not worry about being late until you are actually late.”
While this story is something I think about whenever I’m feeling anxious about time, it is also a commentary on being present in the moment.
A friend shared a TikTok video of a a young woman discussing how she has embraced being a slow cyclist. She said that she realized her mindset while riding a bicycle was the same as being in a car. When you’re in a car, you expect to go faster, get there quicker. There’s a hurry hurry mental thing that happens to our brains once we’re behind the wheel. This is not true for bicycles. No one cares how fast you’re not going. I confessed that I had very similar feelings and thoughts about cycling, but I’ve fully embraced my lah-dee-dah style of riding. I stay present on the road in front of me and the activities on my left and right. I smile and say ‘good morning’ to people I pass waiting at the bus stops. There are times when riding the scooter or the bicycle has produced anxiety for me. I might not ride the scooter because I’m afraid of being caught in the rain. I might skip riding the bicycle because I’m worried about being late. Yet, both of these activities do something to soften the hard edges of me. For one thing, neither of them have a digital clock display. Valerie, the scooter, has a digital clock, but I never bothered figuring out how to set it when I replaced my battery. It’s always noon or midnight on Valerie. So when I am on the bike or scooter, I have no sense of time. I just get there when I get there.
This is most true if I’m on the bicycle because I’m a slow cyclist.
These activities provide me with moments of mindfulness that I should have while driving. Let’s face it, we all should be driving our cars as if we were on bicycles. I mean, just this week someone ran the stop sign at the end of our block and two cars were flipped around, windows shattered. One car was full of small children and they all exited the vehicle crying and whaling. Thankfully, no one was hurt. This happens at least once a year at that intersection and by now all of us know the drill of checking that 911 has been called and making sure no one is bleeding out or trapped in a car. We do what we can, even if it’s just sweeping up the broken bits of cars from the street. In most cases, all of these accidents were a result of unmindfulness. But, I also think that mindfulness is an over simplified word. I am not just being mindful of what is happening in my surroundings. I am being present in it.
Michael likes to say that I ride between raindrops and every time he says it, I imagine hummingbirds zig zagging through a rain shower. My imaginings are in slow motion and I can see the wings of the tiny bird moving up and down. I can see each individual drop of rain as it falls. I am not a hummingbird and the reality is my actions is not a slow motion version of Animal Planet, but being present and mindful kind of makes it feel that way. Anyone can ride between raindrops. I’ve just told you how to do it and I’m sure you’ll master it in no time. It’s a skill, not a super power.
A skill I’m thankful to have mastered.
Mostly.