** Editorial Note : This was written in 2013, but thought would share here on AransasNaturally.Rocks too! RT
Frequently, am asked, “Man, why do you ride your motorcycle so much?” It’s a complex question, so usually I take the easy way out by responding, “Because I can.” Almost always, that takes care of that and I am on down the road.
Some years back, it hit me! I live in a box and ride in a cage. Barefoot hurts my tender feet. I am often the recipient of airborne infection. Without the television weather, am lost. My skin is pale. Am hot, am cold, am never just comfortable. I had been sucked into a closed culture where the earth and its environment were blocked off from my day-to-day existence. A sad life, insulated from one of the most incredible gifts from God, the earth and Mother Nature.
I envisioned a time before 1870, where our great Native Americans lived free and unfettered by the Anglo-European mind. The earth and God’s treasure trove of natural resources provided for all their needs. They had a way of life that had existed for hundreds if not thousands of years. The Native Americans knew the earth and their connection to it. They built a spiritual life centered upon these great gifts found in all of nature around them. They were all connected. They were one with the earth, the weather, nature and all God’s creation.
Contrast the realization of my life in a box to the freedom of this connection to our amazing earth. I knew in the deepest reaches of my soul that I must change. I needed to change to feed my spirit. I needed to change to have a deeper relationship with God. The insulated life in boxes and cages had to end! Enter my old friend, the Harley-Davidson.
Fast-forward to Sunday, 10 February 2013. Have been riding daily for years and years. I am connected more than ever to the environment and nature around me. The feeling is wonderful and satisfying. The experiences over almost 20 years of “being out in it,” are immense. Countless encounters with nature have honed my skill of observation and awareness. Cycles and circles found only in God’s natural world are ever apparent. It is in these great circles I live and love.
On this particular Sunday, was riding south on Lemmon Avenue by Bachman Lake in Northwest Dallas. It’s a route that is very familiar to me. With the lake, there is wildlife and winged ones that come and go with the seasons. I know their cycles and mark my view of time by their appearance.
On Lemmon Avenue, coming over the Northwest Highway bridge, came upon a Little Blue Heron that was dead on the side of the road. Immediately, I said my usual prayer for the soul of the bird. At that instant, I saw something rather amazing. A sight that many people driving over that bridge likely missed. It tore at my heart but warmed me with a unique picture of love, at the same time.
On the right of the road, perched upon a light post was another Little Blue Heron. Within feet of the deceased bird, was its probable mate in grief over the loss. Cars flying by, the Little Blue Heron atop the light post appeared focused solely on the dead bird.
The rest of my day had the picture thought of the grieving, crying Little Blue Heron over it’s partner. Could not get the image out of my mind. While at the same time, did not share the experience that day with anyone.
Instead, I held it in my heart as the love between two mates, suddenly separated by death.
The following day, around Noon, was passing by the same spot on the same road. The dead Little Blue Heron was still there, lain the gutter of the road. And atop the same light post, was its mate! Still there, still waiting or grieving. I just don’t know. Over twenty-four hours later, the scene had not changed. I was beyond amazed at this sight!
Tuesday, 12 Feb., about the same time before Noon, was back on that bridge on my motorcycle pointed south. Before I noticed if the deceased bird was there, I saw the mate, still perched in the same spot. For the third day, that Little Blue Heron held vigil for its lost mate! My thought again was of an intense love and bond these two Little Blue Herons must have had.
By Wednesday, 13 Feb., the dead bird was gone. Probably picked up by the city workers that maintain the park around Bachman Lake. I looked quickly to the familiar light pole. The Little Blue Heron that had been perched on high was gone. He or she with a broken heart had flown from the scene where the mate laid for the three prior days. My eyes began to tear as I pondered this incredible experience.
Now it was over, the circle closed. A view of love as I had never observed tugged at my heart. An experience of love that would never had been possible in my life without a connection to Earth, nature and God’s amazing creation. This was a new experience from which I can learn. I am blessed!