Some days are vast spaces of inner quiet. I only get tinges of frustration or impatience on these days. The rain? No problem. 37 degrees? More layers. The rain came and went and so did the sun.
For me the body power thing is humbling. Everyone else rushes past with enormously superior power and speed. I inch along. Sometimes I fall into rightousness about superior ecology or present moment awareness, but it just means I’m defensive.
What I am doing is slow and takes work and the payoffs are not outwardly evident. What a colorful oddball I am inching along ignoring the vastly superior transport that flies past. How blind can I be? What a simpleton!
Taking a car makes so much sense for most people’s mindset, it’s hard to argue with! But which came first, the mindset or the car? Could it be that cars have changed the way our minds work? Could it be that cars have changed our values?
Riding a bike is not an economy, but a luxury- of time. I feel rich in time. Rich in pleasure. Rich in health and connection.
Driving a car is a type of poverty.
Ok, Ok, my soapbox is shattering under the weight.
Leaving Santiago, headed for Finisterra the end of the Medieval world.
I’m cycling in a cloud.
They’re not crypts or mini churches or covered bridges to nowhere. They were built to store grain. They don’t appear to be used anymore. There are many scattered around the countryside.
The Finisterra peninsula.