THE PATH I CHOOSE
On our last day, our route hugs the shore. An hour in, and the cold and the wet break me. My body has had enough. I slow down, wanting simply to look at the place I am riding through. I watch a wave break over a jetty.
The word ‘gentle’ floats to my mind. I want gentleness. I want it for myself right now, but I also want to be gentle with others. This is the change I seek within myself. There are moments with my children when my frustration incandesces into anger, and my older son will flash a look of fear. Seeing his eyes go wide and his face draw tight makes me think less of myself. He’s still so innocent. The kindness I’d like to achieve would banish such moments from our present and our future. This kind of grace, to me, is a sign of an evolution of the spirit.
When I imagined this trip, I thought it would be a way to re-centre. As the waves continue to splash over the rocks, I realise that aside from offering some random epiphanies, my ride hasn’t helped me achieve the resolution I sought. The growth I must accomplish will happen only after I arrive home to face the latest ‘give-me-mytoy’ running battle between my boys, the no-body-contact moves in the kitchen with my wife. Like pedalling, I will have to work at it. And even then, I can’t control the outcome.
I close the gap back to my friends. My shoulders ache, but I find refuge in the draft. Nirvana continues to elude me. Suffering will continue to be a part of my life. But my commitment to my kids means that I will work towards greater peace within. I’ll stick with the Wellbutrin, the breathing exercises, the appointments with the psychiatrist. Will it save my marriage? I don’t know. I can only be certain of the path I choose.
I consider a quote from the Buddha that I’ve known for years. It fills me with both doubt and hope.
“No one saves us but ourselves.”