Union

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Monday 07 August 2017: Forêt Domaniale de la Londe-Rouvray to La Chapelle-Hareng [Part 2]

decamped, rode, pushed and fought our way through, over and down
a dense forest trail
rode a beautiful forest trail
arrived at a new wave neo-pagan peace tree
had breakfast, had coffee
and became one with all of this

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love

A Little Bit Different

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Sunday 30 July 2017: Melton Mowbray

13:19. A. week has passed. A life has been honoured.

The bikes remain in the garage.

The funeral was on Thursday. Short, sweet and fitting. Memories were shared. Grief was shared. Love was shared. Bread was broken. Life was celebrated. Laughter was raised.

Life moves on.

Life continues.

The bikes came out again yesterday. Pannierless, we wrestled nothing – wobbling along the first 500 metres like a pair of drunks trying to disguise their tipsiness.

But, as the town became a village, and the village became a country lane, control and familiarity were regained, and it felt great to push the pedals round and round, pump some blood around the body, and clear the cobwebs gathering dust.

It had been less than a week since we arrived, already much hardened by our three weeks on the road, and it’s amazing how quickly you can soften up given a week of relative inactivity.

Can’t be sure when we’ll be back proper Tracing-Horizoning again, but we’re inching along the red-tape maze and it feels like the end is in sight. Don’t count your chickens an’ all that, and I already feel like I’ve cursed it, but, yes, I sense we’ll soon be back on the road and making our way Southward again – approaching from the North rather than the East, as originally thought a little over two weeks ago.

Since we set out on this whatever-it-is-we’re-doing, time has seemed so much bigger: minor moments filled with so much new that 24 hours can feel like a week, a month, a year, which is fantastic, and does make you pause for thought when you consider how repetitive a stationary day-to-day life can be if you allow it.

When travelling, I look at yesterday as if it came from another time. I guess we’re used to looking back at events and assuming there are blocks of mundaneness in between, unworthy of remarking or reflecting on – though maybe we should reflect more on why those unremarkable days exist and whether we want more or fewer of them.

Again, despite being stationary for a week now, last Sunday feels so far away: a week full of things not for the action movie silver screen, but the stuff of poetry and verse. A period full of empty: being touched by things I can’t identify or recognise, but that trigger all kinds of responses and reactions.

It’s grief, it’s love – it’s life, in one of those raw moments when you feel and recognise it for what it is; and that is as valuable as hanging off a suspension bridge by your teeth on a fraying elastic-band, or something.

And now it’s time for the life of those living in the human form to move forward.

But again…
…a little bit different.

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Peace and Love

Monday 17 July 2017: Aachen to Asse [Part 1]

Am receiving lots of touching messages of condolence and support regarding the news back in England. Concern is also being expressed that our bike trip appears to have been nipped in the bud so soon.

But, as I have said in a number of responses: these paths have lots of twists and turns, don’t they?

Just as life in this form continues for those whose physical and mental sustains, the journey, whilst taking a wholly unanticipated detour, incorporating a lot less pedal action – though the bikes remain our constant companions, even in our rooms overnight (they don’t snore) – continues.

The door to our previous flat wasn’t just closed for the time being as we left it behind at the end of June, but locked. This was about pursuing a way of life we had worked hard towards for over two years.

Our life was to be lived experiencing the world as viscerally and unmediatedly as possible; working our way around the globe without any specific geographical goals; just following our hearts – both our own and those that pulled them.

I guess, ultimately, we saw ourselves as travelling from A to A, i.e., returning to Poland to embark on our permaculture, eco-project; employing anything that we had learnt along the way. But, just as the route would be the right one, taking us the right way when it felt right, our time of return would also be determined as and when it felt right.

And none of that has changed. The verbs in those previous three paragraphs are all still present (except the one about locking the door: that’s still locked).

Now we are travelling the way that is right, because it feels right: it is just one more twist and turn on this journey, which is just life by any other name – life lived with and on a bike.

Nothing changes. Everything changes. Life goes on.

The journey continues (for all of us).

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But, again, to emphasise, as this is the point where I came in: those messages of support and sympathy have been overwhelmingly touching. Thank you: I love you all.

Peace and love is the most precious thing; we know this, we feel it, and its preciousness is heightened and intensified by its absence; so hold onto it, give it, share it, every moment, as much as you can: make the world a better place.

Peace and love.