Starting my twelfth day at home from the Cannonball at 2 Am in the - TopicsExpress



          

Starting my twelfth day at home from the Cannonball at 2 Am in the wee waking hours of the morning/night...As i have so often been awakened at such an hour layered by dreams and reality...The melding of the two an interwoven clasp palm to palm of lovers more than friends...As i slowly distinguish between the two...Silence only broken by the welcomed random rhythm of the rain as it drums softly over my head against the pane...I lay with my eyes open so as i know these are not sleep dreams...Thoughts tumbling like children down a green grassy knoll with a hollowed yet hallowed echoing laughter...The sleep dreams fading into the filtered light as dreams live to lurk in the shadows of the night...My hand and arm tangled in tingles cradling my head leaving a trail of pins and needles marching to my shoulder...Attached yet racing to be detached before caught as i shake the prickles from my finger tips...Riding 4000 miles in the open air and wind a detachment within its self...Wide open vulnerability to danger, thrills, elements, and expansive views...Not confined to merely visual aspects of eye opening views yet an enlightening of awareness...Every sight, scent, sound, and sensation being funneled like fuel on you over you and through you...The contrast of a silk cocoon to peripatetic wings...Just yesterday the scent of a skunk transported me to the hills and back roads of Tennessee...Just yesterday i received snail fan mail from a stranger friend with congratulatory words and a hand written note thanking me and Bill Woods for the entertainment of our words and daily reports...Just yesterday some of the faces and conversations with strangers i met from Daytona to Tacoma surfaced...Just yesterday more than a few friends toyed and tickled me with the 2016 Cannonball possibilities...Just yesterday i started ACCEPTANCE for the first time since Tacoma...Just as it did nearly every time on the cannonball it fired off on the first ignition kick...Just as each morning of the Cannonball i sit here with revelations of revolutions writing my blog...Just now i can image myself back to my first two wheel coast down the dirt path hill on the neighbors 26 inch Schwinn...Just tall enough to reach one pedal at a time toppling over giggling on the grass at the bottom...Just now i can taste that first movie star kiss hidden in a 49 Ford panel van we called a piano truck...Just now i question my sanity...Just now i am slipping a burlap grain bag over the head of our first pig SuzieG to lead her from the couch in the barn to her hen house pig pen...Just now i am rattling the barn rats out of the grain barrel with a broom handle...Just now i clasp my own fingers interwoven like my dreams and reality across my chest and close my eyes...Just now i see the patchwork of my life entwined and braided like an oval rug from the center out expanding with each loop...They say your life passes before you before you die...Then i have lived and died a thousand times...Todays photo is of me taken by the talented Paul dOrleans of all the photos taken of me on this Cannonball this one captured my soul...
Posted on: Wed, 08 Oct 2014 08:54:04 +0000

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