I shared with you my experiences of faith during a taxi ride on the back of a 125 cc motorbike from Cap Haitian to Milot. I found that by leaning with the driver and allowing myself to flow with the machine, I not only traversed a distance, but also experienced the world in a different realm. I have read Pirsig’s “Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance” both in college and again over the last few years. Although it is in part an autobiographical story of a motorcycle trip he took with his son, the underlying philosophical discussions center around the dynamic tension with the Zen of being in the moment, and the importance of rational thought and action to maintain order.
I had a little free time before going back to Boston for school this summer. And despite the ribbing of my sons about a midlife crisis, I enrolled in the Rhode Island motorcycle school at CCRI. My classmates were as diverse in their own ways as my colleagues at Harvard - yet with a shared interest. Our first day was spent in class understanding the mechanics of a bike, how it differed from a car, risk recognition and management (right up my alley), and the mindset needed to ride safely. There would be a lot of counterintuitive mind/muscle memory training. For example to turn a bike right, you push the right handlebar down and away, causing a lean. If you feel the changes, your body will follow and you must look far into the distance, of not where you are now, but where you want the bike to go. And here’s the cool thing, if you start to go wide, you can’t roll off the power or hit the brake as you’ll lose traction and stability. Instead, you must lean harder and add more power to drive yourself through the turn and back on course. It takes both the Zen of the moment and the rationality of basic physics. With thought, none of this surprised me. In flying, when you start a turn, you add back pressure since you are changing the component of lift, and add power to maintain airspeed. I know I’ve done that right when I take someone along, bank 45 degrees to the right so they can look down the wing, and they feel no sense of falling, just gentle pressure into their seat.
Today was a 5 hour riding range starting at 0645. The bikes had seen their share of students, with scratches and dents, but the headlights still glowed and the controls were responsive. Despite the heat we all wore long sleeves and pants with boots, helmets, and gloves. After some basic warm ups, we began track work. I was having trouble with my turns –until I realized I wasn’t looking where I wanted to be, I was looking just in front of me. Once I trained myself to look beyond the entrance, to the end of the curve, it all fell into place. As I rolled on the throttle, the bike became more stable. As we practiced panic stops, I was able to modulate how hard to squeeze (after I’d locked up the wheels a couple of times.) The time went quickly, and I’m looking forward to another session tomorrow.
I’ve sometimes been accused of thinking too much, and at other times being a bit impulsive. What I am learning during this change in direction is that we can and should experience both the real and romanticized aspects of life.
And sometimes Zen will tell you to add power and lean in, even if it doesn’t seem rational.
No comments:
Post a Comment