I have Tasted Freedom

I have tasted freedom. It came upon me, engulfed me and rushed past – yet never letting go. There is something of the romantic in riding a motorcycle, something of a century past where a trusty steed and your word were all that you needed (and perhaps a sword). Unlike a carriage, or a car, a horse signifies independence and control. Every one of your steps, indeed, your destiny, is for you to do with as you please. You are exposed to the elements and are thus a part of them – the grander scheme, the Tao if you will. The rush of the wind, the chill on your chin, the soreness of your hands, the funny walk after a ride with too few breaks, the hint of sweat from the non-stop extra dose of adrenaline… But what more, is the life you carry behind you at times – this life entirely dependent on you, like a child, subject to your whims and your desires, to your risks and your mistakes. And then you too become the plaything, as fears are withdrawn and eliminated, contemplations eased and dissolved; the road takes, and gives little in return, but I am thankful for it because so often it is not what we need, but what we have and must expel, that renders us whole.