response
I've asked a couple of people to write a bit about some of the ideals presented via motopsychosis, including those which relate to the 'portability' of our lives, and what it means to be addicted to not only motorcycling, but the consistent influx of new experiences and change (which, of course, seem to come along with traveling via motorcycle).
I know Honey Lazar best through working with her on her ongoing documentary project entitled "The Portable Universe" (which opens this Thurs., Feb. 22nd 5-7pm at Notre Dame), and in light of the concentration of this project, I assumed that her most profound influence would be that which relates to our 'portability' while traveling via motorcycle. The severe limit of space, particularly in relation to the hardships of traveling this way, and the decisions that this limit imposes on us about what is important to carry.
"..The stuff that we think is important from birth to death represents what we feel we need throughout life for various reasons..."
"..We can talk about objects of desire and necessity more freely than politics, religion, or the ravages of aging. We can talk about house sales, garage sales, and charitable donations of our things with more comfort than loss of loved ones, divorce, or friendship terminations. Things can be metaphors that lead to revelations..."
Although the things we carry in our tank bags may seems quite utilitarian and necessitous to us, I'm sure they would also speak volumes about who we are as individuals; particularly to the non-motorcycling community.
I thought that this idea would particularly relate to my current situation in completely relocating via motorcycle and essentially living out of these bags for an extended period of time. Imagine presenting this task to a non-motorcyclist; you have about 80 liters worth of space to pack everything you will need for [potentially] the next six months [or longer]. I'm fairly certain the most popular response would be "impossible".
The scale of revelation that this implies about us, as motorcyclists [and individuals] is monumental.
And while this is certainly a topic with plenty of intrigue, when asked to discuss the idea of motopsychosis, I got the following, surprising, response:
"I have returned from 2 days with my sister in CT. She has a debilitating disease that has left her bedbound for the last 25 years. I am not sure what this has to do with free will or intersecting paths or Quantum mechanics, but I do know that my sister relies on hoists to lift her out of her bed and place her into a motorized vehicle. She is certainly addicted to them, as they represent freedom (free will?)."
While this is seemingly not such an intellectually profound response, I believe it holds much more insight than it appears. To me, the suggestion here is that physical motion is inherently associated in our minds with freedom, new experiences, and change. It is, perhaps, a human addiction to desire physical propulsion, whether or not we are capable of it ourselves.
In this very basic parallel, her sister has manifested this addiction with regard to her mental associations. She is not calculating lean angles, plotting her route on a road map, or encountering new people in strange lands.. but she is experiencing the animation of the world around her as it unfolds before her eyes. She is no longer watching the television positioned above her bed, or counting ceiling tiles for the trillionth time, or staring blankly out the window at her bedside.Things are CHANGING.
"..everything is temporary, nothing lasts, and change is exciting and reliable.."
With this thought comes, with some expectation, that perhaps this is the fundamental root of our addiction. We all find a certain level of comfort in things the way they are, and even that "..at a certain time in life, it's nice when you can say: "things haven't changed that much, I'm still doing the same things.."".
But what I believe I have neglected to realize is the comfort that comes with change; it is, after all, about the only thing in life that really IS reliable.
Traveling via motorcycle has become the most productive way for me to harvest change, and in the pursuit of it, I never realized what exactly the pursuit WAS. I did it because it felt good. I was of course enthralled by the novelty of hurdling through time defying the laws of the universe and risking my life with every second, but the part which originally seemed secondary has almost become the primary goal of the activity; the comfort in KNOWING that the next second will be nothing like the this one; that a wrong turn will change everything; that a chance encounter will change everything else; and that all of this is the pure nature of what I'm doing,, and why I do it.
To take the thought a bit further, we can, in fact, relate it on a molecular level with consideration of the ideas set forth in my previous post. Let's suppose, for example, that, as proposed, we do not actually posess this thing we call 'free will'; that our lives are as calculated as the balls on a billiard table. Should this, then, imply that we do or do not have enough consciousness (or, subconsciousness) to realize this and therefore take actions that enable us to FEEL as if we are in control? And if so, wouldn't that, in itself, be a contradiction to this supposed lack of free will? This is a debate that cannot be won.
As a specific example,, while traveling last year, I had ridding three long hard days and found myself taking my time on the fourth. I did not make a conscious decision not to cover ground, but simply wasn't is a rush. I pulled off at an overlook on the Cherohala Skyway, and suddenly two or three hours of conversation had passed; during which time I met Sue. Sue was an older woman traveling alone (via motorcycle) from Florida to Canada, who suggested that I stay at the Kickstand Lodge (in the area from which I had just come and was heading away from). She spoke highly of the place and it's owners and insisted that I stay there at some point.
As returning to where I had come from was not in my plan, I continued south.
Later that day I became discouraged about my lodging decision for the night and turned away from it in bwilderment. I had no idea where to go from there; there really wasn't anywhere to go. So I just rode.. aimlessly.. for a couple of hours and finally remembered my conversation with Sue. Of course! I'm headed to the Kickstand.
And so the story goes.. I pulled in to the Kickstand Lodge and was greeted by Fred and MO with open arm and incredible hospitality.. lengthy conversations and plenty of insight. I've continued to speak of the Kickstand since my stay there, and even more so after learning of Fred's death no too long after my stay. I spent a total of about four hours in their company, but the experience was undoubtedly the most profound of the entire trip; to this day those four hours have affected, and CHANGED, my life..
So the question remains.. were my travels predetermined? Was I SUPPOSED to meet Fred and Mo? Did I meet Sue because it was calculated that way? Under the circumstances it's pretty hard for me (even being the non-believer that I am) to deny it..
Or was my encounter with Sue a coincidence and my experience at the Kickstand a manifestation of my own will? Sure I wanted to meet good people and have a good time, but did I actually WILL it to happen by consciously deciding to return north?
So, I think it has everything to do with 'intersecting paths' and 'quantum mechanics'.. it's through our own human addiction (whether conscious or not) that we take part in activities that make us feel something different than we're used to. And by positioning ourselves within the comfort of discomfort and the repetition of change, whether it's designed or coincidence, we find the experiences that remind us of the reasons why we're here.
I know Honey Lazar best through working with her on her ongoing documentary project entitled "The Portable Universe" (which opens this Thurs., Feb. 22nd 5-7pm at Notre Dame), and in light of the concentration of this project, I assumed that her most profound influence would be that which relates to our 'portability' while traveling via motorcycle. The severe limit of space, particularly in relation to the hardships of traveling this way, and the decisions that this limit imposes on us about what is important to carry.
"..The stuff that we think is important from birth to death represents what we feel we need throughout life for various reasons..."
"..We can talk about objects of desire and necessity more freely than politics, religion, or the ravages of aging. We can talk about house sales, garage sales, and charitable donations of our things with more comfort than loss of loved ones, divorce, or friendship terminations. Things can be metaphors that lead to revelations..."
Although the things we carry in our tank bags may seems quite utilitarian and necessitous to us, I'm sure they would also speak volumes about who we are as individuals; particularly to the non-motorcycling community.
I thought that this idea would particularly relate to my current situation in completely relocating via motorcycle and essentially living out of these bags for an extended period of time. Imagine presenting this task to a non-motorcyclist; you have about 80 liters worth of space to pack everything you will need for [potentially] the next six months [or longer]. I'm fairly certain the most popular response would be "impossible".
The scale of revelation that this implies about us, as motorcyclists [and individuals] is monumental.
And while this is certainly a topic with plenty of intrigue, when asked to discuss the idea of motopsychosis, I got the following, surprising, response:
"I have returned from 2 days with my sister in CT. She has a debilitating disease that has left her bedbound for the last 25 years. I am not sure what this has to do with free will or intersecting paths or Quantum mechanics, but I do know that my sister relies on hoists to lift her out of her bed and place her into a motorized vehicle. She is certainly addicted to them, as they represent freedom (free will?)."
While this is seemingly not such an intellectually profound response, I believe it holds much more insight than it appears. To me, the suggestion here is that physical motion is inherently associated in our minds with freedom, new experiences, and change. It is, perhaps, a human addiction to desire physical propulsion, whether or not we are capable of it ourselves.
In this very basic parallel, her sister has manifested this addiction with regard to her mental associations. She is not calculating lean angles, plotting her route on a road map, or encountering new people in strange lands.. but she is experiencing the animation of the world around her as it unfolds before her eyes. She is no longer watching the television positioned above her bed, or counting ceiling tiles for the trillionth time, or staring blankly out the window at her bedside.Things are CHANGING.
"..everything is temporary, nothing lasts, and change is exciting and reliable.."
With this thought comes, with some expectation, that perhaps this is the fundamental root of our addiction. We all find a certain level of comfort in things the way they are, and even that "..at a certain time in life, it's nice when you can say: "things haven't changed that much, I'm still doing the same things.."".
But what I believe I have neglected to realize is the comfort that comes with change; it is, after all, about the only thing in life that really IS reliable.
Traveling via motorcycle has become the most productive way for me to harvest change, and in the pursuit of it, I never realized what exactly the pursuit WAS. I did it because it felt good. I was of course enthralled by the novelty of hurdling through time defying the laws of the universe and risking my life with every second, but the part which originally seemed secondary has almost become the primary goal of the activity; the comfort in KNOWING that the next second will be nothing like the this one; that a wrong turn will change everything; that a chance encounter will change everything else; and that all of this is the pure nature of what I'm doing,, and why I do it.
To take the thought a bit further, we can, in fact, relate it on a molecular level with consideration of the ideas set forth in my previous post. Let's suppose, for example, that, as proposed, we do not actually posess this thing we call 'free will'; that our lives are as calculated as the balls on a billiard table. Should this, then, imply that we do or do not have enough consciousness (or, subconsciousness) to realize this and therefore take actions that enable us to FEEL as if we are in control? And if so, wouldn't that, in itself, be a contradiction to this supposed lack of free will? This is a debate that cannot be won.
As a specific example,
As returning to where I had come from was not in my plan, I continued south.
Later that day I became discouraged about my lodging decision for the night and turned away from it in bwilderment. I had no idea where to go from there; there really wasn't anywhere to go. So I just rode.. aimlessly.. for a couple of hours and finally remembered my conversation with Sue. Of course! I'm headed to the Kickstand.
And so the story goes.. I pulled in to the Kickstand Lodge and was greeted by Fred and MO with open arm and incredible hospitality.. lengthy conversations and plenty of insight. I've continued to speak of the Kickstand since my stay there, and even more so after learning of Fred's death no too long after my stay. I spent a total of about four hours in their company, but the experience was undoubtedly the most profound of the entire trip; to this day those four hours have affected, and CHANGED, my life..
So the question remains.. were my travels predetermined? Was I SUPPOSED to meet Fred and Mo? Did I meet Sue because it was calculated that way? Under the circumstances it's pretty hard for me (even being the non-believer that I am) to deny it..
Or was my encounter with Sue a coincidence and my experience at the Kickstand a manifestation of my own will? Sure I wanted to meet good people and have a good time, but did I actually WILL it to happen by consciously deciding to return north?
So, I think it has everything to do with 'intersecting paths' and 'quantum mechanics'.. it's through our own human addiction (whether conscious or not) that we take part in activities that make us feel something different than we're used to. And by positioning ourselves within the comfort of discomfort and the repetition of change, whether it's designed or coincidence, we find the experiences that remind us of the reasons why we're here.
posted by Dude at 8:53 PM
2 Comments:
It is my opinion that intellectually profound statements come from simplifying, editing, and a basic awareness that we are all the same. Whether we travel by bandits, a motorized wheelchair, or by shoe, we are all seekers. That is what I believe Portable revealed. Museums are stuff collections to help us connect to history, and it doesn't matter if the stuff is the result of linear planes, Photoshopped photos, or love letters. At least not to me.
Not profound, of course, but what is?
Travelling via motorcycle is a free will way of surrendering to the universe. We choose to go. I will not spent time dissecting whether this "choice" is real or the completely predictable actions of the subatomic particles grouped together known as me responding to the many other particles of this universe banging away at each other... I'm not that bright. Besides, I just wanna ride.
So I choose to ride, and in the process surrender myself to forces that if ignored will ultimately conspire to crush me. In this, I am not speaking strictly of gravity and the obvious consequences of crashing. The Road is not static, but itself a body in motion with far more mass than anything that I and internal combustion can combine to act against. The proverbial force to be reconned with. It is the sum of all the people, places, times and conditions that I will encounter. Hell of a lot of particles, eh?
So out there, there is only me and The Road. How I relate to this force defines whether it was a good trip, or a bad one. Surrender is key to success.
How can this be? Would this not diminish the individual, making my definition good vs bad irrelevent? Not at all. I am me, but it's been noted that we are all the same. So this overwhelming force is alot like me, just more. I never felt more free, more me, than when allowing The Road to participate in my actions, rather than stubbornly always going my own way to prove my independence.
If acting in concert with this force brings a sense of contentment, then one could reasonably determine that this force is a good thing. So I choose to find in me those things that reinforce my relationship to this good, the best parts of me.
The motorcycle naturally forces us to leave many things behind physically. This paring down prepares us to mentally do the same. Take with you only what matters most... to you. Come to terms with how these things relate to this external force and...
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