The Ride

The whirring and spinning of wheels and the clicking and popping of gears are the only sounds heard as we zip along the smooth asphalt winding through the trees.  I am on a bike ride with Mark, Prin, Troy, and Nathaniel.  We don’t talk much as we draft single file, and I am left to my thoughts.  To the right, a manmade meandering path curves around a manmade forest—freshly poured cement is held in place by wooden bands and sticks, while trees are propped up with bamboo poles and the grass is tenderly cut in neat areas.  To the left, the jungle remains wild, untamed, beautiful, mysterious.  The road divides human and nature, and is itself a statement of human’s iron will and domination.  Human pours roads where human pleases.  I glide by a flattened snake.  Human wins again.

Today we ride to tackle mountains.  Why put myself through the physical pain and mental torment of climb after climb, muscles screaming, heart racing, lungs begging for relief?  To train… to become stronger… really, though, because the mountain is there and must be conquered.

In the back of my mind I know this cannot be.  My tires hum on the pavement between gravel and the somewhat smooth painted line, and I see a mouse that has been caught in the fury of a human’s vehicle.  Human can try.  But as we snake around and up and around the mountain, I see the limits of human’s domination.  I race down a slope, only desperately hoping that the momentum of my descent will carry me up the next climb.  Hope not realized.  The road itself is at the mercy of the curves and swells of the mountain.  Hard rain punishes the tar and mars what human has made.  Lush plants and creeping vines attack and overtake the telephone poles that line the road.  Wild, Untame, Beautiful, Mysterious will have its way.

The Great Artist did not intend for his work to be domineered, beaten down, pressed into slavish submission, all at the heavy hand of human.  Instead, the Artist’s creation is to be embraced. enjoyed.  human should be inspired. in awe.  The creation instigates worship—not of itself but of its creator.  The creation itself worships the creator, through its very nature and existence.  It provides a small picture of what its Artist is like…

Wild. Untame. Beautiful. Mysterious.