Quotidien – Page 2 – Petitefreespirit

Tales from the Bikeside

Yesterday I was riding home on my bike when I saw a little girl safely riding her bike on the sidewalk in front of her house. I noticed her bike was exceptionally small sized and still had training wheels attached. Once she reached the end of the block (they lived on the corner), she stopped. At that moment, I was approaching her corner to turn and did a “girls on bikes” solidarity wave. She smiled and returned the wave. Hopefully in seeing me ride my bike, she realized that someday, she too would be able to handle her bike with ease. I believe strongly in the empowering feeling attained from either seeing someone do that which you wish to achieve or being able to envision yourself achieving that goal.

As I pedaled away, I realized that when I was her age, riding a bike was completely foreign to me. I doubt if, at that time, I could have imagined myself ever successfully riding a bike. Growing up, I was underweight and undersized. I rode a Big Wheel for an abnormally long period of time. Other kids around my age were whizzing by with actual bicycles and I was pumping pistons of fury (left and right legs) on my Big Wheel. We won’t even discuss the countless times the pistons were pumping but the plastic tires didn’t gain traction and I remained rooted to the spot. I would imagine I didn’t learn how to ride a bike until I was around 13, maybe.

Despite the slow start, I’ve managed to make up for lost time. Recently, I’ve pedaled on a local bike trail for about six miles out (then pedaled six miles back with adult pistons of fury as I became increasingly concerned about being caught in a thunderstorm). Last year, I used to ride my bike as a part of my daily commute to work. Just last night, I rode home from work with a coworker trailing me because she didn’t think it would be safe pedaling the short distance from work to home in the dark despite my flashing bicycle lights. According to her estimations, I made it home in about ten minutes. When we spoke, I wasn’t out of breath but felt somewhat invigorated due to the fast, high-gear pedaling I had just done.

Because of the route I typically take when I meander out and about, it is quite likely the little girl and I will see each other again. Hopefully as she navigates the scary process of learning to ride with and without training wheels, she will remember seeing the big girl on a bike and realize it’s possible.

PS: Two years ago, the last view I had of my friend in Germany is her on her bike with her daughter in a basket on the front, holding an umbrella in one hand and pedaling away from the metro station. I was in awe of her ability to be able to coordinate so many things on a bike simultaneously. I recently shared my awe regarding her abilities during a conversation while I myself was riding my bike. It’s not the same as an umbrella and a toddler but I feel that maybe, just maybe, I’m a little closer to her skill league.

Seen on the Bayou

Most of my travel photos are based on international travel. However, the opportunity to see the everyday with new eyes always exists. Different walks and bike rides have offered photo opportunities to see things that could be overlooked if I were zipping past in a car. In addition, not everyone has been to a bayou. I had to look up the definition for bayou myself because I didn’t know exactly what it was. My easy thought is a place with many ditches that have water flowing through them and animals that live in or near them because that is what I see as I head to and fro. However, the true definition encompasses more than ditches because beyond the areas I can walk or pedal are boatable (I don’t have one of those) waterways that seem to meander through landed areas.

I don’t go everywhere but this is some of what it looks like with more to follow…

By the way, I still don’t know what those jumping fish are that I caught on the one video. They are quite interesting though.

Sometimes You Just Gotta Go With It

I enjoy singing but have not had the opportunity lately because I usually am not somewhere where I can listen to music privately (and sing along). One day last week I made my usual before-work stop at Starbucks and one of my favorite arresting songs came on – LIke a Star. This song, like Rain by Jesse Cook and Straight Into the Sunrise by Gato Barbieri, stopped me cold when I first heard it. I was totally fascinated by the sound and ran out to purchase the entire CD based on the one song. This was pre-iPod ownership. However, I’m glad that I did purchase the entire CD because I love every song on it.

Because Starbucks was pretty empty, I just went with it and began to sing the song – aloud. Softly but still aloud. It felt good to sing along to the song because it was something I had not done in quite a while. When the song ended, the process of singing felt cathartic. A few moments later, I realized it was time for me to pack up and go. As I was leaving, I turned around to unplug my phone or something along those lines and realized there was someone sitting behind me that I didn’t factor into my decision to sing the song aloud. As soft as I was singing, he was close enough to have heard every nuanced note. Oops, free concert…

Sometimes you just gotta go with it.

Food

Food has had its way with me lately. Each day it seems as if I have a taste for something that sometimes I can’t put my finger on and other times I can’t put enough of my fingers on. Last week I had dairy-riddled cake that was a brief moment in heaven as I ate it. I ogled a bottle of cream-based Amarula liqueur in the grocery store a day or two later. I followed this by throwing EVERY restriction to the wind by having a large café mocha with whole milk and whipped cream yesterday. Dairy is my biggest avoidance but yesterday I took shelter in fatty dairy as if a storm were raging and it was my salvation.

This has even extended to cooking. Sunday, I went in the kitchen and experimented/cooked. The result: chicken baked with sweet potatoes and onions with a side of cabbage sautéed with apples and ginger. Yesterday I made tuna with olives, artichoke hearts, scallions and basil. What makes it worse is that I’m a picky eater. So I’m not craving generic things, I’m craving specific flavors and textures (thus the tuna with all the added flavors). Yesterday, I wanted a fresh slice of cake. Not pie. Not a cookie. Just a slice of cake that was baked within the past two days.

Even at this hour, I am thinking of food. I don’t go through periods like this often but I will definitely be happy when this period is over.

A Richer Shade of Brown

I have spent a lot of time outdoors, riding in the sun lately. As a result, I’ve transformed into a richer shade of brown on my exposed body parts. Each day when I shower, I’m always in awe of the darker shade of brown that I’ve become in comparison to the paler shade from which I started. Both colors are side by side in places so that the contrast is, at times, startling. The first time I significantly changed color was when I went to Jamaica with some sunscreen that I picked up with an SPF of 15 (I thought 15 was the highest – it was 1998 and I knew nothing). It was like taking a knife to a gunfight – too little. One day on the beach in Negril turned into six months of watching my darker skin gradually return to the same color as the unexposed places. I’m just glad I didn’t burn.

Snakes, Snakes, Snakes

I am afraid of snakes. When I went to Sedona years ago, my biggest concern was disturbing a snake or snakes. The first time I went, it was too early in the year and they were still hibernating. I returned in the heat of June and managed to not see any snakes other than a dead one on the interstate between Sedona and LA. Dead snakes don’t frighten me.

Recently, I decided to take a ride on the nearby bicycle trail. It just so happens to run through or alongside the bayou. My concern when I began was for my safety, being a lone female on what, at that point, seemed a secluded area. However, as I continued to pedal, I felt intermittent large drops of rain falling on my arms. It was so intermittent that I thought the drops were more flukes than rain. As I continued, the drops fell a little more frequently (still intermittent) and I realized the secluded bicycle trail might not be the best place to be when a deluge fell and lightning began to strike. With that in mind, I turned around in a panic and was pulling a Lance Armstrong in order to get back to the shelter options of civilization. It was at that point when my senses were in a state of alarm, that I also saw a snake slithering its way across the bicycle path. I was already freaked out at the thought of being caught in the middle of nowhere outdoors in a thunderstorm and the snake just put me over the edge. I was already in Lance Armstrong mode but was struggling to figure out if the snake would/could potentially strike me as I blew past him. For me, this was a major quandary. Momentum cured the quandary because I just kept going, the snake stopped moving and I successfully passed him on my way to the safety of civilization and shelter.

The bicycle path is on indefinite hold. I decided it would be in my better interest from a safety standpoint to ride with others than to ride alone. I just need to put forth the effort to find a group that rides or find someone who would be willing to ride with me. In the meantime, I’ve meandered around in the general vicinity and each time, I’ve run across a snake (not literally). These other snakes have been dead, so, no fear there.

After seeing so many snakes, I decided to look up the symbolism for snakes and have been trying to incorporate that information in my current life situation. From what I’ve read, snakes symbolize healing and transformation. I recently decided to focus more on my Reiki self-practice so that I can work from a place of better clarity as to what I should be doing. After having seen the snakes, I feel confirmation that I’m on the right path. I had an ambitious idea regarding practicing Reiki on others but have not had the conversation that needs to happen – yet.

Years ago, I had a dream involving snakes. In that dream, the snakes were friendly and almost pet like. The dream was so surreal that I believed my fear of snakes was gone. It may in fact have diminished since then. The fear of the snake on the path may have been a product of my heightened sense of danger regarding being out in a potential thunderstorm mixed with the fact that I recognized the turmoil I was in could have been interpreted as aggression by the snake. Just as a dog can sense fear, so too do other animals – snakes especially – sense the state of mind we are in. Someday maybe I’ll see if my snake fear is gone. However, that someday will be a day when I am in a calm, centered state of mind…

Pedaling The Stress Away

I recently got my bike after a several month separation with it in Alabama and me in Louisiana. Last night I wanted to go a short distance up the street and decided to test it out. Unfortunately, the tires were low on air and I already knew the rear brakes were not functioning. After checking two gas stations with non-functioning air pumps, I was able to find a mechanic shop that was still open and the mechanic put air in the tires. After that, off down the (busy) street I went, mindful of relying on one set of brakes.

Tonight I REALLY wanted to get a ride in and decided to take a meandering path through the neighborhood and to wherever the streets led me. It felt good to be back on the bike in 12th gear cruising around, feeling the slight wind I created as I pedaled. It was even scentsational as I smelled something nice that I could not identify – bonus. One hour later, I’m at home, showered and ready to go to sleep.

Below, a supermodel shot of the bike in Saint Louis at the park…

A beautiful day

Today was a beautiful day. So beautiful a day that I had to go out and be in it. Although I just walked from one indoors environment to another, I thoroughly enjoyed the distance spanning Point A and Point B. The weather was cool, sunny and windy with no humidity. The only thing that I could have asked for was my bike (and a partner in pedaling crime) so that I could have gone far and wide while enjoying the beauty of the day. Days like this in Saint Louis would put me in the best possible mood ever because I would also enjoy the scent of the blooming flowers, trees and bushes along my different routes. The bayou is definitely not the city. Sometimes I’m greeted with the smell of large-sized roadkill before actually seeing the decaying carcass in my direct path. I do recall a day earlier this week where I smelled a soft, sweet scent like honeysuckle that more than made up for the carcasses. Today, however, was an exceptionally windy day so I smelled neither carcass nor honeysuckle-ish vegetation. If there were a competition as to who felt better – me or a cat sunning in a window – I think the cat would lose…

Ever so often, it’s nice to have an all-around good day. A day of well-being and contentment. Today is that day. Tomorrow the cat in the window may be the victor, however, I will enjoy the rest of my victory today.

Cajun Chaos

Most people who know me, know that I am not a big fan of New Orleans. My first visit to the NO should have had me saying “hell no” to ever returning. Highlights from that first visit included going to a prominent drug dealer’s birthday party (we were told it was a house-party and technically it was) with a homicidal lunatic who later threatened to kill me, my friend and his male friends who were going to take us back to our hotel (according to homicidal lunatic, they were going to take us somewhere and rape us); barely escaping said high drama by attempting to leave with two women and a man (who was a New Orleans police officer – what was HE doing at the party?!); having homicidal lunatic being chauffeured to our hotel, sitting in the back seat of the police officer’s town car between me and my friend who were trying to escape him. Did you catch all of that? By virtue of the fact that I’m writing about this today, I was not killed (or maybe this is Blog Posts from the Other Side).

Considering that misadventure to be an enormous one-off, a few months later, me and my friend were in New Orleans again. This time, I found myself standing on the sidewalk outside of a souvenir shop where I had purchased some souvenirs waiting for my friend to finish her purchase when a group of guys came walking up and proclaimed verbatim “bitch get the fuck out of my way.” Never mind that I wasn’t in the way. At that point, I figured that I had given the Big (Not) Easy enough attempts to welcome me with warm hospitality as opposed to brutality. Epic failure on its part. So, at the tender age of 19, I proclaimed that I would Never, EVER go to New Orleans again in this life nor any following lives. I didn’t even want to take a flight whose flight path would bring me over the state of New Orleans. There is something funny about making a declaration of never – sometimes there is an again. And in my case, again, again and again. Although to my credit, I waited another 19 years before the next again occurred.

Yet again, the bad mojo returned. I was going to visit a friend I met in Luxembourg who was working at a law firm in New Orleans and was going to stay overnight and hang out in the French Quarter with a known person. Who doesn’t own a gun. And who would lead the way instead of commanding that I get out of the way. Yet, I found myself in the Quarter with someone who was compelled to get a beer at every place we passed. We ended up at a club in the middle of the afternoon that was jumping. After dancing for a few minutes, he got a table and four beers. I continued watching everyone dance from the side of the dancefloor. All of a sudden (that’s usually how things happen), I heard a loud PLIINNGG noise near me, looked down and saw that a glass bottle had been thrown right next to me and had broken. For a moment, my temper was about to get the best of me but then I remembered where I was. Instead of responding in the heat of the moment, I took a deep breath and used my foot to scoot the shards off to the side. However, a few minutes later, my ankle was itching. I reached down to scratch and first, felt moisture on my fingers and second, saw that the moisture was blood. Not good. When I informed my friend, he reached down and touched my open wound (who does that?!) and declared we couldn’t leave because he had not finished drinking his thousandth beer yet. We unfortunately went through a routing of are you done yet, no that had my head about to explode. In utter frustration, I finally left the club alone after having thrown the remainder of the last beer in the garbage with such birds-eye accuracy you would have thought I was a professional dart player instead of a near-sighted, non-athletic chick with non-existent hand-to-eye coordination. In anger, I walked straight back to the car although I had paid no attention to where we were going when we came because I was following him like a baby duck. After 19 years, I realized that the mojo had not changed at all.

In spite of these horrendous experiences, I found myself two years later returning to New Orleans for a brief period of time because I booked a flight into New Orleans and then would drive to Florida. And that is when the mojo changed. I went to the more local part of the French Quarter and had the most laid-back, chill time ever. I was hanging out with a local resident who was responsible for my first sane experience in New Orleans and I greatly appreciated the reversal of fortune.

I am now in New Orleans for a somewhat indefinite period of time and have had good experiences. I’ve returned to the French Quarter with the laid-back New Orleanian and again, nothing happened. I’ve been on the ferry at night (that thing moves pretty fast). I’ve meandered around some parts of the city during the day and have found my favorite local coffeeshop (I’m here right now). I’ve met normal, sane people – one even from Alabama. I’ve seen some neighborhoods that have allowed me to understand what makes people enjoy the beauty of New Orleans. In the grand scheme of things, I’ve now experienced a small part of the true New Orleans and it isn’t that bad.

I’ve learned that not every rocky start leads to a rocky ending…

A Place in the Sun

In the past, nature has had its place in my life – outside. Little of my life had been lived outside as an adult, especially when I lived in Atlanta. In addition to being a city of hustle and bustle, there never seemed to be accessible places to go and “be one with nature”. After having lived in a different city for almost seven years with a city park “in my backyard”, I learned to appreciate and, more so, value my time outdoors as more than just the place I was in between being indoors and being in the car. One of the simplest rejuvenating activities is to spend time outdoors and just be. That’s it. Nothing more. Nothing less. However, in the past several months I’ve completely missed the simple pleasure of being outdoors – until recently. One day the weather where I am broke and I found myself A) at a coffee-shop and B ) sitting outside enjoying the warmth of my place in the sun. Originally, I sat with my back to the sun so that I could receive its energy on my back. Yet, after a few short minutes, it was feeling my face suffused with the sun’s warmth that really worked its magic. For several minutes, I just sat and absorbed the general feeling of well-being I derived from just sitting in the sun. In the midst of my stress and anxiety filled days, that was a good day. All because of my place in the sun. Tomorrow I repeat on a partly cloudy day. Hopefully the clouds will part…