Alive

If you’ve read Wild Ride before, you may have noticed some changes. I’ve created new graphics and email content. And with my ride at Whistler just weeks away, I’ve been learning about taking photos and videos from the saddle so that I can share the experience with you visually. I bought a GoPro and some gear, and although we’ll be camping and riding off the grid I may even give live video from Whistler a shot.

Writing here has really energized me. I work at it most evenings and jot down or dictate notes into my phone throughout the day. (If I don't pin them down as soon as they show up, ideas tend to wriggle away and slip into the murky river of time.) These days it’s as if no matter what I’m doing, in the background a portion of my brain is always churning in service of writing, active in conversation with both the deepest parts of myself and the world around me. And I love it! I feel fully alive when my creativity is engaged in an organized way. Without a lens to focus it, my artistic energy is too diffuse to have any potency.

When I saw the description of the Golden Eagle Festival ride in Mongolia it was like I’d stumbled across a long-forgotten piece of myself, and I felt desperate not to lose it again. I also knew with utter certainty that I was not the only person who’s ever had that feeling. Writing about it allows me to share my experience, strength, and hope in a way that might inspire others to identify and pursue their own dreams, as others have inspired me.

Last year I heard a speaker named May tell the story of how, as her youngest child was leaving for college, her childhood dream to be a writer living in Paris bubbled back to the surface. It seemed outlandish, and she felt its persistence almost embarrassing. When she found the courage to voice this desire to someone she trusted, that person asked what was stopping her from realizing that dream. “Well,” May explained, “I don’t speak French, and Paris is very expensive.” She expected advice to forget her silly dream and to focus on gratitude for the life she had. Instead, the response was a challenge, straightforward and respectful of her heart’s desire: Then I suggest you start learning French and saving money.

So that’s what May did. She began studying and practicing the French language, and carefully saving money instead of buying things she didn’t need. Most importantly, she kept at these efforts for seven years. Then May moved to Paris. She still lives in the City of Light today, and her work has been published in major newspapers like The New York Times. I think of her whenever part of me wants to tighten my lips and shake my head at my dreams, and every time some side interest dangles a shiny, expensive distraction in my face.

If you don’t know what your heart’s desire is, don’t worry. I was overcome with despair when I heard May tell her story because I knew I had dreams like that but couldn’t identify them. Over time our minds accrue layers of gunk from our upbringings, our interpretations of experiences, and the norms of the industrial capitalist culture we’re steeped in so that eventually our dreams may become so obscured and unfamiliar we don’t even remember they exist. But they’re not dead.

Discovering my dreams required the gentle patience of an archeologist unearthing ancient clay pots. Asking myself questions like “What do I really want?” and “If I could do anything, what would I do?” was fruitless and frustrating. So I changed tactics and instead of trying to force the matter, I focused on creating the conditions in which my heart’s desires might emerge. I worked with a therapist and I started spending time in silence, connecting with myself and the Great Mystery of this universe through practices like meditation, journaling, and walking in nature without human company or earbuds. Then I began paying attention to that quiet, still voice I could now hear more clearly and following any soft nudges towards interests I perceived.

I tried different activities and paid attention to how I felt. Taking riding lessons again, I realized that I feel present and content in the saddle, even when I’m exerting myself and hitting the limits of my skills. Then one day at the barn I got to talking with another adult student, and she told me about a riding trip she’d been on in Ireland. Which reminded me that I’d had a similar trip planned in high school, until I fell in love a new horse at the barn and chose two years of horse ownership over a two-week trip. This sent me looking into riding vacations, which is how I discovered the Golden Eagle Festival ride that sparked the start of this blog, which clearly lights me up. And yeah, if you guessed by now that growing up I wanted to be a writer, you’d be right.

What interests from your youth have you lost touch or reconnected with?