Mud, Mudslides, and Quiet Moments

13 05 2010

Everyday, I ride my bike crosstown, north side to south side, through central Edmonton. Many days, I opt for the scenic route, through the river valley, where I can pretend that I’m not in the middle of a city amongst countless strangers, cars and concrete, but in the countryside surrounded by trees and birds, where nature isn’t under siege by humanity.

Depending on how you frame it, it's possible to forget it's a five minute ride to downtown.

My bike gives me access to the little secret gems and hideaways invisible to those who choose the road, and the option of going out-of-bounds, where there’s enough time & space to reflect, to breath, to just be, without the pressure of being under someone else’s gaze (magpies excepted). These are the places in time and space where I remember that I’m not a mouse jockey or a mechanic or an activist, but just a tiny spark in this gorgeous, complicated organism called earth. Nothing else makes me feel more centered or sane.

This used to be a fun trail until a massive crack opened up in the middle and part of it fell into the river, causing the city to try to obstruct the access points with huge piles of dirt. Now it's an even funner trail.

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