Monday Evening Sherman Branch Trail Ride

After work yesterday I rode home, loaded up the mountain bike and headed out to Sherman Branch for a moving pastoral experience. There were only 4 cars in the lot when I pulled in, the 'heat' of the new south seemed to dampen the spirits of those looking for a more perfect weather window.

I took off at 1648hrs onto a very dry solidified trail as I realized we are simply another over flowing blue barrel away from drought conditions all over again. No sense thinking about it because if I did that would mean that I am emotionally connected to whatever the out come would be so why would I or anyone else for that matter choose to actively consider what is really going on around us. I mean if I can get 5 more yards down the field at 4th and 2 that would mean life really is good and I would have made the most of it my cerebral housing group allowed me to.

I would rather just throw out the canards lefty and right that way everyone around me can know how happy I am while I swim in the sea of everything is just fine. So, twice around the RC and something shiny catches my eye before my second, 2nd descent. It is a car or a a bike or a euro transfer or a blade of green grass stuck in the sidewall of my tire. I consider the splendor that the little shiny piece provides me in its eloquent simplicity and at the same time I understand that I do not own it. Just like I don't even really own my bike or the stupid toon shirt made in nowhere that I found in the gutter on a road ride that I cannot stop wearing. I have no idea when I last bought a shirt or pants for that matter. How could I own anything if there is no value to just wearing it while I pass by what is really happening around me.

Through the main trail my hippocampus seems very on it, maybe at least I do own that and my visual cortex because I did not pay anything for them. 91F code low orange is not hot, it was 98/98 for the past few weeks and now this 91 resembles nothing in the way of impediment. Flowing around up and over the forested woods I can hear the dryness just above my head in the branches as they grind together in the light summer wind.

On the lake loop I think about Ms. Arsen as I ride down and across the dry used to be wet culvert then the phone in my pocket vibrates my kidney. Dammit, the Dane and the Husky opened the door and are down the street. Thanks to the courier phone being on I now have a tinge of anxiety for the safety of the big dog and the blue eyed one. The Dane is smart, he can move a chair, push up the lock with his nose and then use his mouth to open the handle. By the lower rock garden a 1 minute buzz back lets me know that they are safe.

The ride ended but my thoughts about all that is happening did not. People say to me, "Why think about it?" and "You should only pay attention to what you can control." I say we control none of it except for Kevlar and bullets, big ships of war and plenty of happy people buying it at 2.66 and rising that are ignoring their own selves in the reflection of their ATM transactions. Life is Good Folks however every material and theoretical emotional control we think we have that represents how great we have it is collectively destroying not only the surface of the planet but as well the Earth's Low orbit(roughly 600-900miles up above our heads) where there is presently 1-4million pieces of garbage ranging in size from a finger nail to a cement truck encompassing our great day as we spin on axis into tomorrow.