Asking for Directions


This morning as I was backing my motorcycle out of the garage, I knew I wouldn’t be taking my normal route to work. Living in White City, work is to the north of me so I headed south out of town. Why take the long way to work? I needed a little seat time to sort things out. For all those things swirling around in my head, I find the best time for me to sort through them is riding down the road. Much like someone in a glass box trying to grab as much cash as they can as it flies around them, in this case this isn’t cash flying around me and untamed animals are ready to spring out from the ditch to ruin my day.


So off I go as my morning begins. My plan was to ride in a big circle and end up traveling east so I could see the sun come up from my bike. Apparently folks take this Labor Day Weekend business pretty seriously because I had ridden 20 miles before I passed another car on the road. I find that when I really don’t think about anything in particular the answers usually seem to come. Often the surface questions I have are of insignificance and the real questions are buried under my full head of hair, so it takes a few miles to figure it out and get to the real heart of what needs organized. Not being a typical male, I’ve never been afraid to ask for directions, and The Man upstairs is a pretty good listener.


As I settled into my morning commute my mind wandered from one subject to the next but not landing on anything specific. Just the way I like it. As the plan of riding in a big circle came to fruition, I could see the sun peaking up over the horizon just as I turned to head back east. Often the answers to even the deepest questions can be right before your eyes and all we have to do is look up. The quiet inside my helmet is a great place to hear the answers that so many times are drowned out by the constant noise and distractions of a normal day. The old adage of the not seeing the forest for the trees is so true, and even though we recognize what our eyes are seeing, we may not fully understand that a sign can be so simple.

 The quiet inside my helmet is a great place to hear the answers that so many times are drowned out by the constant noise and distractions.

Once I realized I was looking at a cloud pointing in an obvious direction, I had what I was looking for. I’m not sure if I really needed a big arrow in the sky, but obviously someone thought I did. I’ll take it.