Remember when you were a kid and that freedom you found in two wheels? The ultimate sense of accomplishment once you had your training wheels off the bike and you could go anywhere (within yelling distance of the house, that is). I recall testing the waters and riding with one hand on my bike. “Look Mom and Dad, one hand!” Then, I remember trying to ride with no hands. I would slow the wheels way down and take both hands very cautiously and hover for 1.7 seconds right over the handlebars, then immediately back down. Phew. Then I would linger with both hands all the way to 3 seconds. Back down. It was so scary and oh, so invigorating to dance in between the lines of comfortable control and the adventurous unknown.
As I have grown, I wonder what happens when you don’t want to let go of the handlebars of control? Ever?
I often feel that I am driving this bike of life and I just cannot take my hands off the handlebars. I want to meticulously audit and monitor every turn, every action and every goal. Why do I do that? When I sit here and think about it, I feel it is because I don’t want to get hurt, fall down and fail, or perhaps, the absolute fear of the unknown. If I know exactly what is going to happen and where I am going with my hands properly placed on the handlebar, then I can truly plan out my happiness. Forever. Right?
Wait, what about the beauty of the unexpected? How do I dwell in the shine of possibility and remain open, if I am stuck in my own controlling plans? What might happen if I take the road less traveled or perhaps veer off my carefully charted life course? Or even let go and *gasp* let my heart drive, not my hands? Let *double gasp* trust and faith in the my body, my listening, God and the Universe drive?
I close my eyes and recall that moment when I went 10 feet with no hands. I truly trusted my body, trusted myself and really let go. When I see myself there on that purple Huffy bike in my neighborhood, both scared and excited. And, I see that I was sitting straight up, no hands – literally leading with the heart. It is beautiful.
So, why am I riding with both hands on the handlebar when playing with the 3 second handlebar hover is an invigorating life adventure?
I think it is time to let go, take both hands off the bar, and trust that I know my body, I believe in my choices and I will be in the right place at the right time, because I will arrive by leading with my big, juicy and open heart.
“Look, look Mom and Dad, no hands!”
Now, is this what being present feels like?
I say, just Let. go.