Searching for new beautiful moments

“What if most of the beautiful moments in my life have already happened?”

That’s the question my broken voice raised to my therapist.

“Maybe I’ll never be in love again.”

”Maybe most of my big achievements are behind me.”

“Maybe there won’t be any more big adventures in my life.”

I had to admit that this is where my mind has been for some time. It’s not where I want it to be, but circumstances of the past half a year or so, I think, have left me stuck on these thoughts and questions.

The darkest paths we travel wind through our minds and our hearts.

And there’s no map to find your way through. There’s no ready-made guide on how to deal with hard loss or the dramatic shifts that are thrust upon us, most often without our input or consent.

Many times we have a plan, a design for our futures, to which we commit ourselves fully. We allow ourselves to fantasize about what our world will look like when this cherished dream is realized. Believe in the power of that dream for long enough, and it starts to feel less like a dream and more like a certain part of your plan.

Until you have to face the reality that this dream and reality are not in alignment.

I’ve had to face this a number of times this year, on a number of fronts, and it has left me walking through the same paths in mind.

I’ve been unable to walk away from the pathways of the past. And I’ve been unwilling to take a path to somewhere else. I have been sort of meandering in a loop between what I had hoped would be, and the largely unknown of what lies ahead.

***

Normally on this day I’d be on my way to Western Kansas to join my friends for the start of Biking Across Kansas.

I rode my first one in 2015, during another tumultuous time in my life where I again found myself stuck between what was and what would be. I credit that experience for helping me find a new path forward.

Photos taken by Sandra Milburn in 2015

Since that first year, I have said that I’ll ride BAK as long as my body allows me.

This year my body - and our completely f***ked up healthcare system - won’t allow me to ride.

I have spent the past several months trapped inside the insurance system’s calculated and deliberate methods to deny and delay medication needed for a chronic condition - and that has left me unable to ride the longer distances of BAK.

It’s the latest in a string of forced choices I wish I didn’t have to make. But it would be foolish, I think, to refuse to accept the reality of any situation, whether it be a change in work, matters of love, or a spiritual journey across Kansas. In fact, I think such denial of what is clearly truth always makes the matter worse.

I’m especially disappointed about this development for a couple of reasons.

This year’s route is one of my favorites - winding through the northern reaches of Kansas. The hills are joyful to ride, and the towns along the route are some of the most friendly and hospitable places on earth.

Also, BAK is the way I sort of cleanse my soul of the debris of the previous year. It’s the most therapeutic thing I do each year. It’s a reset button of sorts. I have tended to treat BAK as a sort of mark of a New Year. I am upset that I won’t get to experience that this year.

I often wish I dealt with loss and transitions better than I do. I think I’ve grown better over the years, but I still have the tendency to get stuck. To dwell, ruminate, and run through my mind all the things I might have done differently to change the outcome.

Cognitively, I know this isn’t productive, and isn’t helpful in moving past the feelings of hurt and loss. But it seems to be part of my nature, and it often takes me longer than I’d like to reach some level of acceptance.

***

I sat in my sadness for a few minutes after I asked those questions of my therapist.

Then, I raised another possibility.

“What if I need to adjust what I consider to be beautiful moments in my life?”

”Maybe those beautiful moments won’t be as big or as grand. Maybe I’ll see a flower blooming or wildlife in my backyard, and that is what I will need to consider the beautiful moments in my life.”

In that moment, I meant it to be sardonic.

But in time it helped me remember the value in seeing the beauty of small moments.

In fact, the grand things aren’t really beautiful on their own.

Falling in love isn’t the thing that’s beautiful. The countless small moments shared between two open souls coming together is where the beauty resides. Conversely, the pain lies in the moment-by-moment distance that grows between those once adjoined souls.

A career advancement doesn’t posses any beauty at all. The good you can do in your work, the people you meet and help, and the experiences you share with others is what’s beautiful.

Participating in a ride across the state on its own isn’t where the beauty is found. That lives in the shared experience of nearly 1,000 people experiencing the essence of Kansas at a granular level. It’s the warmth of the host communities, and the hours spent laughing and sharing life with friends that is so beautiful.

Maybe I will need to adjust my definition of what qualifies as the beautiful moments in my life. But it doesn’t have to mean that it will be lesser or diminished.

When I really consider it, I think the adjustment is simply returning to the norm.

Because the beauty of life has always been in the small moments that we can find in every day we’re alive. Life is little more than a collection of beautiful moments strung together hour after hour, day after day, year after year, decade after decade.

And maybe the contrast of loss makes the beauty all the brighter.