Playing: Nutshell by Alice In Chains
It’s not every day one can be where I am.
It took me years to be here, to allow myself to be here. This has been all a tricky game of choice, a game won by my own choosing. The wind whistles through the gaps of this helmet and nature's song backdrops this infinite highway–the tight grip around these handles, the loose dust grazing my naked skin, and the destination of where I’m headed still unknown are but a few things that remind me that I am truly free.
These empty desert roads, at times, take me anywhere but here, mentally and internally–I’m transported to places of the past often, expected to visit them with new wisdom obtained from the road.
For 32 years of my life, I’ve only imagined the feeling of being here, never fully accepting the reality of actually being here. I allowed myself to conform to a world of belonging for too long–of being a part of, of doing as they told you, of building a life like everyone else. Hell, that’s all I knew to be my truth, and thinking any other way was always seen as crazy, impossible, unrealistic. "Snap back to reality, you weirdo."
But what truly was my reality?
And who truly was I?
I throttle a bit harder and grip a bit tighter. The dust in the air kicks up a cloud of forgotten identity behind me as I speed off. These rides were a dance with death that I’ve come to truly love. “Momento Mori” tattooed on my forearm stamped as a constant reminder to never forget how fleeting this life truly is–I will never turn down a dance with death.
“Son, when are you going to get your shit together?”
For who?
“Why are you just letting your life slip away?”
But under who's standards are you measuring?
“Stop being so irresponsible.”
But ma, I'm living.
“Get your degree for fuck sakes. Don’t let us down.”
I love you, but this is my life, not yours.
“When are you going to finally settle down?”
Sorry, but this road is just too exciting.
These dying words fall faint to these ears, like the wind racing past me with every new mile to nowhere.
Somewhere the remaining tears fly off my face, like bullets into the sand around me.
With this bike comes me and a few things: a sleeping bag, withered from the rough terrains I’ve come to call my bed, a canvas duffle carrying within it my identity while I’m on this road, my favorite faded cap strapped to the back of my saddle, a jug of water laced to my duffle, and a promise bracelet around my right handlebar that has become the reminder from a friend that love is the cure.
There is not much needed on the road but these few essentials and a bit of grit. The road ahead always provides the rest, in whatever fashion it pleases. This desert is merciless, desolate, yet humbling and endlessly abundant if you allow it to be. The future is never fully known, and that'll always be a given–so why not surrender and enjoy the ride.
I had to accept what would come with detaching from everything that I once knew. This meant detaching from an identity that I was for so long attached to. This came with letting go of relationships that no longer made me, breaking hearts of those that feared they would forever lose me. I chose to no longer see this life through eyes that once trapped me. I chose the road because I always knew freedom waited at the horizon ahead of me.
I tried my best to not let the thought of being forgotten amongst the new settling dust linger.
This healing came with realizing how meaningful it was to tend to one’s own heart. I knew living from here was doing the whole of service. I carried this truth closely and the parallel peace that was needed along these roads many miles away. At any distance of this journey, I knew I was still interconnected with it all in its most natural form.
Nutshell by Alice In Chains loops through these earphones–it’s just me on this vast desert road. It’s only been me on this road, and I’ve been riding along this road for miles. The tone of the sky changes to its majestic hues of orange, pink, and purple, as the mountain scape ahead tints the same. The remaining sun burns through my heart as it did the day before, keeping me reminded of how it feels to feel. There’s a slight chill to the evening air that awakens me a bit–nature’s natural pick-me-up. Something out of a goddamn movie is this experience I’m currently living, and I am feeling truly blessed.
This, to me, is what it meant to be alive.
I had sold everything. I used to have a home that I was proud to call my own. I had the nice car, and a killer wardrobe. I had the bitching shoe collection. The brag-worthy watches. All the material success. I lived in that realm and got a taste of what many always dreamed of. I'm grateful, truly, for that experience, and humbled knowing it's possible to achieve for a loser like me–but let me tell you my friend, the happiness that's waiting at the top is fleeting. In fact, being there myself made me realize how far from true happiness I had drifted. I picked up a motorcycle from a friend one odd day and never looked back.
I also learned that the road was much harder to hit with all the excess strapped to my saddles.
I hit the road with absolutely nothing, and I realized what I truly needed to survive. And I chose the road every time because I always knew freedom waited at the horizon ahead of me.
In subtle moments, I would think freedom laid in the actual journey towards it. But the speed of the ride carried that thought away too quickly for me to forever grasp onto it.
Every new mile I proceeded, every old memory I relived, every scrape upon my skin from the road debris I felt, and every moment with this full experience came together so profoundly to paint this masterpiece of a life I had always wanted.
I blink from the shift of wind current and wipe my goggles of the dust to embrace all the breathtaking vastness around me. I grip the throttle a little tighter towards freedom.
This road is a lonely one, but it will bless those courageous enough to take it.
On my 32nd birthday, I was surrounded by all my loved ones, every single one–truly blessed for that moment. As the cake with the candles lit was brought closer to me, I carried one wish, so definite and clear.
I blew out those candles.
“Son, what did you wish for?”
Everyone in attendance had smiles to share for me.
“Ma, I cannot tell you that because it will not come true.”
“Hey big bro, it's just a wish. Let it be known for us all. We’re all here to celebrate you after all.”
I looked around at everyone, and in that moment, I asked internally for forgiveness.
“I wished for every birthday to be as such, surrounded by those I truly love”
It’s only days away from my birthday again, and I sit nestled in my make-shift camp site that evening–motorcycle propped up, with a small canopy draped over to form what would be my shelter for the night; the fire made moments ago warms my somber soul, as this evening moon illuminates my shadows. The new blanket of stars reflects the endless thoughts of a life that once was.
I had kept my honest wish from my past birthday forever a secret. As I cherish this present moment, alone in the desert, having chosen this life I now call my own, I ask for forgiveness once more. I ask to be forgiven for being so selfish. I ask that I am forgiven for leaving it all behind, and for any hearts left broken. I ask that I am forgiven for knowing I wouldn't be surrounded this birthday by those I truly love–and for wishing to be on this road alone instead, riding towards this horizon that awaited freedom.
I remove my canvas duffle bag from the back of my bike and unzip it. I reach in to grab my pocketknife, a tallboy picked up from the gas station a few miles back, and The Creative Act by Rick Rubin. I unstrap my hat from my saddle, faded from all the miles and dusty, but I can still vaguely make out the text in the front– “In God’s Country.” I wrap the promise bracelet around my right hand, bring it to my heart, and breathe in slowly. I then exhale, as all the dust around me finally settles.
It’s all a tricky game of choice. It's not every day one would choose to be where I am.