I went for a bicycle ride today. It was perhaps the only dry day this December, let alone dry day on a weekend. It was beautiful. I pedaled until my feet went numb. Literally. It was just cold enough for my feet to go numb after a couple hours of riding. This is something that happens to me easily. Oddly, the remaining portions of my body often keep warm, even hot and damp with sweat, yet my toes become lost with their own frigid agenda.
The image below is of Portland's newest bridge spanning the Willamette River, the "Tilikum Crossing". Tilikum is the Chinook word for "people". Being exclusively a pedestrian and public transit bridge, I suppose it's a fitting name.
Today was happiness. The sky was patched with weightless white clouds floating upon a liquid blue canvas -- deep and cold, just as the approaching solstice is requesting. Indeed, there was a struggle today between the light and the dark.
I rode about my miles listening to podcasts that investigated the mysteries of the human brain, the science (even mathematics) of love, and what it means to be "successful" (hint: it has nothing to do with a career). This is in stark contrast to my usual bike ride soundtrack: a euphoric electronic mix. Evidently today's soundtrack was not of music, but of conversation. Also in stark contrast to my usual rides, I took it easy, taking time for pictures and smiles instead of grunts and sweat. I was in search of warmth among cold, light among dark, smiles among tears.
Today, I was a ghost, sifting across 40 miles of Portland, Oregon -- untouched, unnoticed, and unhinged. I borrowed its fresh air, its narrowed two-wheeled pavement, its bashful beauty, and its hapless blemish of soggy roadside litter. Toes numb, mind afire, it was a day to be invisible. Untouched. Blissful as a ghost, I was guilty of spooking the halls without staying to haunt.
I borrowed from your light, dear Portland, please forgive me. But I captured you, like me, an amorphous spirit in disguise, a tender soul only truly spooked by your own reflection. Indeed, we are failed ghosts, only capable of haunting our own home. We scared no one today but each other. And we will scare no one tomorrow but ourselves.
I borrowed from your light, dear Portland, please forgive me. But I captured you, like me, an amorphous spirit in disguise, a tender soul only truly spooked by your own reflection. Indeed, we are failed ghosts, only capable of haunting our own home. We scared no one today but each other. And we will scare no one tomorrow but ourselves.
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