The valley floor crawls with streets and utters the sound of traffic, I talk to myself to hear a human voice, the mountain waits with its wisdom. My daily path from square-to-square traps me in the facts of footsteps while the day’s meaning seems to ride like a hawk, small and soaring, over the mountain silence.
The last days of October are drawing near their end and before I close the door to the entrance of my house, I never forget to grab my green sheepskin jacket to warm me up. Bundled with my grandma’s scarf, I immediately feel the crisp air caressing my face. I stand still for a moment in the cool and gentle autumn breeze while the rusty orange leaves embrace my very being.
I run to the euphony of the air as it blends with the rustling leaves and grab my bicycle. As soon as I am sitting on the saddle, I breathe in deeply, smiling and I ride into my own world, a world through which I have become more aware of the need to contribute.
My bicycle lacks the dynamism and controlled intensity of perfecting a rhythmic gymnastics routine on the mat or the warm tenderness of a tight hug from my grandma on Christmas day, but it is still a cocoon of safety as every ride blows away the day’s burdens.
These are the tools I needed to create my own world: air, love, inspiration, connectivity and my ride, my bicycle. From an early age I embrace what I feel in nature, I have fallen in love with the escape from the urban chaos that the outdoors provides. My own world elicits the passion for the power that solitude gives to me. Creativity thrives during my bike rides; shivers run down my spine as the rusty-leaved plane trees that align both sides of the empty road approach me. My mind has cleared away all thoughts of the city; I find myself seconds later lying on a bed of autumn leaves on the ground. I lay still looking up into the sky, watching fluffy clouds glide by disappearing into the distance. The power of nature has won; It is just solitude and me.
Living today, I share my solitude with two elm trees, two dogs, some daisies, a flight of steps, an empty pail, a stone too large to move, a robin, a rabbit, a chain, doll dishes, a shoe marked with puppy teeth, and grass. I move sure of support on earth’s broad shoulders where names, round as a pebble evoke my awareness of my footprints on rocks, sand and running streams.
