the strangeness that lies in our proximity.

philadelphia.

i stopped counting days and miles and many other things some time ago.

and presently, i have no idea what to write. i have concluded that it is virtually impossible for me to place all of this into compartments. these hours on the bike, these evenings with friends, these nights in canada, and rides in rented cars, these nights spent sleeping in the median as the big trucks go by. i grow excited about a time when i can stand at a distance, and peer in on this experience with the space necessary to absorb and process it all. not necessarily compartmentailze it, but place it in some form of context. i find that our brains work in such a way, that we greatly desire {if not need} some point of reference for our experiences. not necessarily something to compare them all to, but a room in the house of our lives if you will. as i see it, i've been busy these months pouring the foundation for this, but the walls are only partially erected. this lifting of walls and placing of windows takes time.

a few days ago i realized that having left on june first, mike and i have been out here for nine weeks, which is so small in the grand scheme of a life, but so enormous here. the duration of it all has lost much of its meaning, and the experiences themselves come to overshadow all other things about the trip. does that make sense? the bikes have become somewhat irrelevant, as mike and i have let go so much. we're now attempting to let the trip move us more and more each day, which is ultimately the goal no? to find that graceful place where we are in control of our lives, and yet allowing them to move us as they wish. trust in the universe i suppose. some of the time, i feel as though i am so in touch with it all, so deeply connected to my heart and the knowledge of these steps, and i am stunned by the beauty. other times {like the night before last when mike and i spent 1/2 hour deciding whether or not we should try to ride across a bridge that does not allow bikes...at 11pm} these decisions seemed veiled in a thick cloth. {we did not ride it, and as we shot across in a minivan with bob the religious fanatic, who would not stop and let us out when we requested [until i fairly yelled at him]. we were amazingly thankful, having concluded that it would have been one of the more dangerous things we would ever have done.}

and so i begin to contemplate the things i have learned out here and where they fit into the grand expanse of my life. oh people, these things take time. so much time, for there is so much in all of this. as the end grows near, i find some anchor to lay my hands into. the people have become the trip now in some way. mike and this friendship we've been able to grow. something that will continue as our lives move on. something i am immeasurably grateful for. jake and helen in madison, friends i've missed so much. people that i love. the continually stretching distance between me and my old home in california. the continually shrinking distance between me and my new home in canada. my first watercolor paintings, and their placement in a room where i will sleep many, many nights. my growing excitement to live in the country and make art. another year in the snow, sending my mind reeling back to that winter living in new york. oh, my dear new york, i will be there soon. days. illinois. baltimore. maryland. delaware. here.

it is all blurry today. all blurry. in the best of ways though. blurry does not, in this instance, carry any negative conotations, it simply means that i need time too look at all of this from afar.

a few days ago mike and i spent some time speaking about the fact that this will all be done in less than three weeks, and all that will come with the end of this and the beginning of the next place. such a great sadness and such a great joy that lives in this. the strangeness that lies in our proximity. approximately 400 miles from the end.

the last 400. what does that mean? today we will return the rental car having driven here from newark, delaware yesterday as mike had a broken derailleur. we stood on the roadside for three hours with signs that read "broken bike! ride to philly?" not one stop. zero. the other side of the sign read "roadside haircuts.....$5" zero. well, not zero exactly, as the 64 year old guy working at safeway gathering the carts was interested, but a bit mentally slow. as i have little to no confidence in my haircutting abilities, i had to decline his request as it would have felt cruel. and so we will return the car, and begin our short jaunt {105 miles?} up to new york city, with the need to arrive there by noon or so on the twelfth. how did this all happen i ask myself. all of it. how is it, that i'll be back in new york on thursday, on my bicycle. i guess life is like that. stunning in its unpredictability. absolutely stunning.

Posted by jeff pitcher at August 10, 2004 09:20 AM

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