Precision, Symmetry, and Synchrony

I rode off for a 90-minute ride today thinking about precision, symmetry, and synchrony. I remembered the movie The Last Samurai and a very inspiring scene where samurai culture is described as being dedicated to pursuing every daily task they perform with perfection. Even simple tasks, like pouring boiling water with a ladle were completed flawlessly: lifting the ladle carefully, gently pouring the water into a cup, and then slowly placing the ladle down, so that it rested perfectly above the pot of hot water. There is a precision to their movements from the moment they wake until the moment they lie down to sleep. 

Their kimonos are also very precise, with the sashes being tied with symmetry that is very pleasing to the eye. Humans love symmetry, whether the bilateral symmetry of a human face or the radial symmetry of a bike tire. 

It was at about this point in my ride that I saw a Grey heron, a bilaterally symmetrical exquisitely lovely example of beauty in the bird world. And Grey herons are perfect for what I was thinking about today because they move very slowly and precisely, while standing at the edge of the water or flying.

Another thing that I thought about from The Last Samurai is how pleasing it is when people, animals, and plants move in synchrony. In The Last Samurai, they show them practicing their fighting techniques. But you see it all the time in the world. When the wind sweeps across a field of corn, the stalks move synchronously in the wind. And even the sound of that is pleasing. And when the ballet performs The Nutcracker Suite, the synchrony of the movements is so practiced, so precise, so elegant that it leaves the audience astounded.

Elegance is something that requires precision of movement. It is beautiful and peaceful to behold. I have a friend named Amy from high school. One day our choir director asked her to direct the choir. I don't think she wanted to do it because she is very shy, but she went up to the front anyway. She is a very naturally elegant person, fluid and precise in her movements, and she is an extremely attractive woman. (She also was our valedictorian so you can imagine what an impressive person she is.) Anyway, she got up to direct the choir and was so perfect, so elegant, so lovely as she conducted us that the boy sitting next to me sighed heavily and said to himself, "She is so beautiful."

At this part of my ride I saw an airplane on its approach to Brussels. Airplanes are perfect examples of precision, symmetry, and synchrony. Thousands of parts come together to precisely create this bilaterally symmetrical machine that is capable of flying through the air in a feat of engineering so astounding that I get a little thrill every time I see one. 

I've wondered how I could try to become more precise and elegant in my life. I have to think about it throughout my day. My husband and I built a cabin on some land in Wyoming. We built the whole thing ourselves and the entire thing required precise effort. It required focus. I had the look carefully at each task I was completing, holding my concentration and using my physical strength as well. Because I had to, I learned to be more precise. But I could work on it more in my everyday life. It's like with eating. You have to do it anyway, so you might as well put some effort into it and enjoy it. I have to do all my tasks of daily living anyway. I might as well put some effort into them and become more elegant if I can. 

So that's what I thought about today. It was a very good ride and a very nice way to spend time with my thoughts. 

Likes and Dislikes

I wonder why I like grasses so much in nature. I like the way the wind rustles through their leaves and how they sway against the breeze. But I just don't like grasses in people's yards. This is one of the things I thought about today on my afternoon ride. This got me thinking about likes and dislikes and how quirky I am about certain things.

I love sundresses. I love summer, in part, because it is the season for sundresses. I have eleven sundresses. Four are not good for riding on my bike, seven are. I love to go for a short ride in a sundress. And I love to see other women wearing sundresses. They are just so beautiful! Plus, the shops show lots of dresses in their windows. 

I dislike a lot of songs that have names as a big part of the chorus. Even the two songs with my name I don't like. There's Starship's song, "Sara" and Fleetwood Mac's "Sara." Both are spelled like I spell my name, which is interesting. I wonder how that happened. But I also don't like the song "Roxanne" by the Police. There are others, but I can't think of them right now. Songs I love with names in the choruses are "Sweet Caroline" by Neil Diamond and "Cecilia" by Simon and Garfunkel. 

I don't really like dogs in general, but I absolutely adore Corgis, Cocker Spaniels, and Greyhounds. They are three very different looking dogs, but I just light up when I see all three of them. I can't stand Chihuahas. My favorite dog in Leuven is a very old St. Bernard who goes for walks with his person a couple times a day. He gets so tired that he lies down on the sidewalk and sleeps sometimes. I've often come upon them and the dog is completely sacked out. His person just squats down beside him and looks at his phone until he's ready to get up and walk a little bit more. I've seen them out doing this for about a year. I don't know how old the St. Bernard is, but they are the sweetest pair ever. 

I love almost all smooth foods. I adore pudding and chocolate mousse. I love hummus, yogurt and skyr, and guacamole. I love mashed potatoes especially when they have sour cream or yogurt or cream cheese in them that makes them really creamy. I also love refried beans especially if they are served with plain yogurt and guacamole. I also really like soft foods like scrambled eggs and cottage cheese. 

With the exception of Swedish meatballs, I can't stand dishes where they mix meats. I once had to eat a pie that had pork, beef, and chicken in it and it is the second worst dish I have ever eaten. (The worst meal I ever ate was the kosher, vegan, low-cholesterol, gluten-free, low-sodium meal on an airplane. Blech.) But I also don't like cassoulet. That kind of thing, where the meats are really stewed together. 

I love seeing well-dressed cyclists. I see them all the time here in Belgium. They could be out on their city bikes or e-bikes, or sometimes they have a couple of kids in tow with their cargo bikes. (Cargo bikes are very popular here and people use them like station wagons.) I noticed once a woman who took her skirt, folded it over and sat on it. She didn't have a skirt guard, but she was able to ride with no problems with her skirt folded over like that. I haven't seen many people riding in high heels. Sneakers are all the rage nowadays which I'm grateful because I also hate uncomfortable shoes. :)

Living Abroad

Peter and I went for another 90-minute ride today. It was cool and grey and I felt just a little bit off. But it was still so great to be out. Just seeing the trees and the birds and the horses was great. I forgot to mention yesterday that I saw a horse rolling back and forth and back and forth in the grass. He looked so happy. It made me happy to see him looking like he was having so much fun. I loved it. 

Today I was thinking about how living abroad was the fulfillment of over a decade of dreaming by me and my husband. We went to Finland and had such a wonderful time there that we wondered if somehow - by some incredible miracle - we would ever be able to live there or in any other country in Europe. We thought that maybe Peter could apply to a company that had a semi-conductor fab in Grenoble, France. But somehow we were always stopped by the logistics of things. We had a big house and in it was my Pilates studio where I worked five or six hours a day training clients. My studio was filled with expensive equipment I would scarcely be able to take to Europe and I would have to shutter my business for sure. And we had such a great schedule in Portland. Peter worked a compressed workweek: Sunday through Tuesday and every other Wednesday. I worked Sunday through Wednesday and so we always had three days off together. 

And then the mold illness hit. We all got sick. Our three-year-old cat died from mold illness - she went into systemic organ failure because of it. Our fourteen-year-old dog probably died from it, too. Peter was moderately sick because he has better genes and worked in a clean room. I got insanely sick. I had a migraine that lasted for two months and had mold growing in my sinuses and in my stomach. My neurological and immune systems went haywire and I started having food allergies and sensitivities to chemicals that are only mildly harmful to others. It was a nightmare. 

My doctor said we needed to leave our house behind. She also said that all our belongings were likely infected with mold toxins at a level that was too high for my immune and neurological systems. I wouldn't be able to heal unless we moved and left everything behind. 

So we did that and moved to the desert. Fast forward a few years and we ended up living in Wyoming where my husband went back to school and got a degree in Computer Science. He totally kicked butt and ended up graduating Magna Cum Laude. I am so proud of him. And here was our in. His grades were good enough to get into graduate school and if we wanted to, he could go to graduate school in Europe. He ended up applying to ten schools and he got into five of them. He picked the top-rated school, which was in Leuven, Belgium, and since we were pros at letting go of things at that point, we gave away almost everything we owned. We bought a one-way ticket to Brussels and showed up at our new home with just two suitcases each. 

And now here we are, riding our bikes together on what is one of the lovelier bike paths I have ever ridden on. You can go for about fifty minutes riding out and back on it without crossing a single road. The canal which you ride along is beautiful. And if you time your rides right, there is not too much bike traffic. 

We live in an apartment that is modern and furnished. We can walk to seven different grocery stores including a Polish grocery store that has incredibly good pickles and a Middle Eastern grocery store which makes homemade flatbread. We don't have a car at all which is a dream come true for us both. I always felt happier in Portland when my transportation was powered by me and now that we are in a small European town I can walk to everything. Besides grocery stores there are clothing and shoe stores, ice cream shops, tons of restaurants, furniture stores, frite stands and - one of the most important - the train station. We've taken the train on eight different trips around Belgium and the neighboring countries of France, Germany, and the Netherlands. It's been so much fun just like we thought it would be. 

So that's what I thought about today as I rode. It's such a wonderful thing when the things you dreamed about come true. It was a long, circuitous path to Europe for us. It involved a lot of loss and pain and hope and love. But we got here. And that is so much fun.

Pets

Today Peter joined me for a 90-minute ride along the canal. I like to let him ride a fair distance ahead of me because I don't want to draft at all. I'm out - in part - to burn a good amount of calories and don't want to make it easier for myself. 

As I rode I thought about pets. A couple of days ago my husband found a letter from 2010 we'd written to ourselves about adopting pets in the future. At the time we had a very hard dog. He peed in the house daily, barked constantly, was pushy and bossy, and rarely showed us any affection. He broke my heart into thousands pieces in the fourteen years he was alive. Having him for my dog was a major source of pain for me. I loved him, but it was clear to the people who really knew me that having him as my pet made my life worse. 

We also had a sweet, mouthy calico at that time. She was fun. She absolutely hated the dog, though, and was barely ever around because of that. She'd show up at mealtimes and then b-line it for an upstairs bedroom or chair. If she could have she would have probably written us a letter begging us to never get another dog, too. 

The problem with our cat was that she missed the litter box every day. I think this is because she was declawed. I totally messed that up. When I took her in to get spayed the vet asked me if I wanted her declawed as if it were the most reasonable thing to do in the world. Only later did I learn that many cats who are declawed end up having trouble with their litter boxes. So it was totally my fault that she had trouble with that. But, still, it was a nightmare. Between her and the dog, we spent a fair amount of time every day cleaning up urine. Plus, the cat puked a lot. And, truly, litter boxes are so ridiculously disgusting when you think about how cats track their litter all throughout the house including the bed. 

Anyway, we found this letter and thought before we read it that it was probably written comically. We figured we were trying to crack ourselves up with all the absurdities of pet ownership. And it was amusing. We talked about rivers of urine and hairballs and the aloofness of the cat. But, truly, it was not meant to be funny. It was a plea for sanity. We talked about all the gross parts of pet ownership, sure, but we also wrote about the immense financial commitment. It's not just vet bills and the cost of food. Every time you want to travel you have to pay for care for them. And if you want to take them with you - like on an airplane which we did several times - there is the added cost of that. And it is not just rugs that the dog ruins. It's couches and chairs, too. It really adds up.

When I read the letter I felt a little sad for us back then. We were stuck. When you have a dog that doesn't show you love and destroys so much of what you own, it's no fun to be a dog owner. And I think because so many people have such wonderful experiences with their dogs, it's difficult to explain why your relationship with your dog absolutely breaks your heart on a daily basis. 

So this was what I thought about as I rode. The letter, the plea for sanity, the costs of pet ownership - financial and emotional - and I was and am filled with compassion for my former self. I know how hard I worked every day to be a good dog owner. Three walks a day every day. Reading of training books and websites. Time spent training all the time. It was just a terrible situation. If I could go back in time and give myself a big hug, I would say, "You're doing great. I'm so proud of you. I know this dog breaks your heart every day." 

It's such a lovely thing that we can know our own stories so well that we can be our own best friends. Reminiscing kindly of past struggles is a way of practicing self-love. And in our self-love rests healing. I believe that loving others is, hands down, the best thing we do, but it's true for ourselves, too. It's good to love ourselves, past, present, and future. It's good to be self-compassionate. I think self-love radiates right back out to the people we love in our lives, too. And that is such a wonderful thing.

Blue Wildflowers

As I rode off today the weather was calm and still, with barely a breeze, and my mind was calm and still, too. I noticed the wildflowers all along the banks of the canal: yellow and purple and white. There is real Queen Anne's Lace here (with the little red flower in the center where she pricked her finger.) I didn't see any red or blue flowers though. 

The water was almost like glass, with a hint of a ripple and it reminded me of leaded glass - like really old houses have - imperfect, but gorgeous, the imperfection making it more attractive. I wondered to myself as I looked at the reflection of the trees on the canal why it is that reflections are so beautiful. 

When I got to Tildonk I decided to ride on. I knew I had a bar with me so I could push a little bit farther. And as soon as I rode through the tunnel under the street I saw dark orange - nearly red - and blue wildflowers. The picture above is of the blue wildflowers. 

At about the 45 minute point I stopped at some picnic benches and ate my bar. I felt happy to be out on such a beautiful day, enjoying my bike, Sabrina, and using my legs to burn calories and create memories.

As I rode home the water was even more still and it dawned on me why reflections are so beautiful. I think it's because humans love symmetry. To a human, symmetry is inherently beautiful. People who have very symmetrical features are more attractive (think Denzel Washington). And when you look at a reflection of a tree on the water it makes a near perfect symmetrical image. It felt good to ponder that.  

It was a very nice ride and I pulled into my apartment happy and peaceful, glad for the extra bit of riding and ready to start the rest of my day. 

Here is a pic of me a little later in the day running to the grocery store in my pink and white dress:

Til Tildonk

The ride I've been doing lately is along the canal down to the town of Tildonk and back. Along the way today I had to come almost to a complete stop to wait for some ducklings to cross the path. They were so cute it was ridiculous. I saw horses out grazing in their pasture, coots, moorhens, geese, and mallards. 

I just got my bike tuned up and it rode really nicely today. I think I might have been riding with a rubbing back brake pad for more time than I realized. Plus, I took a few days off of riding so my legs felt very fresh.