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Tag: Oregon

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Time The Gods Do Not Count

Such is the passage of time, the dreadful metronome plowing forward keeping its pace, measuring out our remaining days toward our end. Time is uniform for every soul; a day, is a day, is a ticking away day. God tracks our days, life’s invisible odometer set from the beginning to expire at a mileage unknown to us. Who is able to stop the meter of time? There is no ceasing it, no killing the march, no rolling back of life’s odometer avoiding our conclusion.
But there is a way to pause it, to ever so briefly suspend the turning of life’s odometer. God cannot be tricked, but there is a part of time He does not count against us. It came to me in a river.

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My Soul Said Go

This is for you, mister random Yosemite Valley stranger who spun on your heels and approached me while I dismounted my bike that sweltering July day, who stopped your walk along God’s Country to ridicule my exhausted frame as I peeled sweaty gear off my back, who halted gazing at El Capitan so you could critique me.  You pulled your focus from where it should have been to where it had no business being, aiming your spiteful arrows at me to offer a cutting remark to this travel weary vagabond.
“Is it worth it?” you inquired rather sarcastically.  Then before I could respond, you turned and walked away.

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Crows For Eagles

My engine thrummed while birds circled overhead, teasing the Columbia River air with their wingtips.  Expert manipulators of space they moved with unconscious subtle gestures, altering their trajectory in anticipation of the next wind shift.  Like a road racer making minute course changes with a lowering of the head to the inside of a corner, these birds were masters of instinctual flight.  I assumed they were eagles.

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Clouds of Doubt

The picture was a metaphor, an allegory that burrowed deep into spaces in my mind I pretend don’t exist, things about the sport of motorcycling I bury beneath the temporal joy of the next corner.

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God’s Own Racetrack, Part 2

Tuesday began with packing, cleaning up the beautiful Prairie Rose, fueling, then rolling out in the direction of Fossil and Antelope, two big goals for the day. Heading west on State 26, we rode through the canyons and high hill country of Malheur National Forest, breathtaking country. Truly reminded me of the landscapes in so many old westerns I watched in my youth.

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