Spacetime Bicycle: The Grade
by
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Part 1 Undirected Restlessness From the End of The Beginning It's been a long time coming - writing the last words of this journey. It is hard to let go. No, that is not right. It just took exactly this long for me to have no other choice. From the bottom of my feet, through my achilles and my calves, my thighs to my loins up my spine to my skull I feel the train picking up, the propulsive conversions of energy and their passionate meetings with the bodies of resistance - all of which I am a part. The feeling of beginning, some call it nervous, exciting; I prefer intense. I exhale and look out the window. I see a new side of town today. I've never seen Houston from the train before, though I crossed the tracks a few times. We pass the untended side of houses, walls of graffiti, and undomesticated trees. I feel the solidness of this Earth, as we push off to leave. Yes, I see a new side of town today. Places feel most like home when I am riding away. "Baby Boy!" a little girl exclaims several seat rows ahead. The train emerges fully from the rail yards, the passenger car still quiet with light anticipation, light anticipation of the comforting sensation of movement, light anticipation of a shared experience. The sunset will come, it happens every day, but in this train, this nexus of travel, we are forced to be a little more aware of time, the agreed measurement of the passage of our lives. Our next stop will be at nine. These strangers and I, there is a sense freedom in our collective movement, but there is still the friction of time - the governor by which we all abide, the very canvas on which we draw our lives. "It's a Baby Boy!" She repeats. The little girl's jubilation pierces the silence of the train, a few passengers giggle as the collective experience is acknowledged. "What are you playing?" a volume-conscious adult voice asks the little girl. "The Game of Life!" I smile at the affirmation mine has resumed. I remember now, as I smile intensely at the thought, that I am in this book. I am in it. This journey that I have romanticized and symbolized and looked upon with four years worth of eyes - I sit inside of it now, and its ending I do not know. This feels like the greatest blessing I've ever known. More from the End of The Beginning Yesterday I was catching up with Bismark, who now walks the foothills of fatherhood as Amelia's belly grows with their first child. Bismark asked about my trip, "When you finally get there, are you going to beat off in the ocean?" "Yes, I am going to rush across the beach and ejaculate into her, as if this trip is one big sexual experience. And then I'll lay on the beach and start to feel kind of awkward, because I don't even like America that much, brush the sand from my shoulder, and say 'Hey, I'ma go down to Mexico and grab some breakfast tacos. I'll be right back.' And then I'd leave, and not call her again." We both laughed, but more so because joke was our best way to express the profundity of life at the moment. I won't be ejaculating into the ocean, not on this trip at least, but if I could convey to you what is leading up to this journey, and what it means to me, than I hope you may share the tension that has built, and thus understand the profound release that I associate with my projection of diving into the cold and vast Pacific Ocean. But we're not quite there yet.
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About the Book
The story of how I freed myself... from myself. I found myself at the dawn of an adventure that superseded geographical miles. From the base of a mountain of truth there was no turning back. The story began as a desire to liberate myself from the bounds of society, but at every turn there seemed to be a mirror. The story, and the meta-story of its telling, evolved into a Transformative peace of non-fiction. I would never return the same. My journey through history and culture, my passage through nexuses of spirituality and science, my battle with apathy and aggression, brought me to the rocky and elusive middle path; and it all began with my first bicycle tour and the retelling of it. Join me in the unfolding experience that is Spacetime Bicycle: The Beginning
About the Author
I was born and raised in the suburbs of Atlanta, GA. to two supportive and loving parents. Highly imaginative and adventurous, I observed my world as a place of infinite creative possibility, the least of which was school. In the fifth grade, however, our teacher, Mr. Chastain decided to start a school newspaper. I assumed the role of OpEd writer and took it very seriously. This was the first time in my life I had a sense that my creations mattered and that I was good at something. That excitement faded through middle school, high school, my failed college experience, and most of my stories remained word of mouth and tales told only around camp fires, bars, and road trips. Occasionally my creative cup would run over in the form of poetry, a short story, or a musical endeavor. I eventually hit the road on bicycle, and started down my own path, and the love for writing I had almost left for dead in childhood, returned, still breathing. Over the course of that last few years and countless enlightenments, loves, challenges, and adventures, I eventually returned to my most beloved cycle of creation: Living an inspiring life and taking the time to write it all down.