You say yes to the ride of course.
This morning saying yes to the ride looked like me wearing nude colored boat shoes and the leggings I slept in and a huge eager grin as I hit the road.
It's been a whole year since I've ridden and this is my first just-for-me-fly-as-I-wanna-go-go-go motorcycle, so I said yes to the mountains calling me through the morning mist and sun but at occasional intersections I'd think about how I was biking in jammies and boatshoes and a grin, and I'd feel vulnerable, and want to curl into a hiding thing, like a tomato bug.
But the the thing about motorcyclin' is you're a dog with your head out the window the whole time. No hiding room nowhere.
And while a part of me wanted to run back home to get out of my jammies, the deeper, bigger part of me wanted to fucking play, with the whole blooming world, IN MY JAMMIES. So I started to play with Kyle Cease's little prompt, "I have some struggle, and I love that." A way of making real peace with wherever the hooties you may be,
I actually said out loud to myself as I roared along the misty blue mountains, "I feel vulnerable, and I LOVE THAT." And when I said it, it clicked because I realized it was true, I very much did love the feeling of being see through and unwilling to hide the big full polyphonic range of my various delights. Part of the bliss of this morning came through me finding a way to embrace the vulnerability, nude boatshoes and all.
It's kind of fun to flip something we're so used to running from (our "lower" emotions) and instead, just love them, and, ourselves as we feel them, as we feel our full expression. It's also kind of amazing how a loved thing sets itself free.