why winter biking is actually quite wimpy

one ordinary morning sometime last fall i got an idea. i’m not entirely sure what sparked it or how i came up with it, but once i had it in my head i was quite certain it was good. it was a kind of plan or a deal, if you will, that i wanted to propose to my mother. without giving it a second thought i called her and with glee made my proposition: in exchange for her going to university – something that she has wanted to do since before i can remember – and registering for a course of her choice in winter 2007, i would give her my car to provide the necessary transportation to and from the class.
my mom gave it a bit of thought but for her it really was a deal she couldn’t refuse. “so, Carmen, what you’re saying is I get your car and I get to go to university? Is that the whole deal? It seems like a win-win situation for me.” yep mom. that’s it. you go to school, i’ll give you my car. as an agreement, i admit it was a bit counter-intuitive…what was in it for me? well… in a word, liberation.

in the weeks that followed, my mother started the process of applying to university. after her official acceptance letter arrived, i bought a one-way plane ticket to get me back to winnipeg after christmas. it was official. i was leaving my car in saskatchewan. while i was home for christmas holidays i helped her pick out and register for an english course. finally, after abolishing any second thoughts, i boarded the plane and came back to winnie to start my new car-free life.

and i love it. biking is so invigorating! getting from point a to point b is no longer a chore, it is an adventure. and winter can’t touch me (thanks to a very cool facemask from MEC – which will also come in handy should i ever need to pull a heist). so i’m just basking in liminal space of transportation instead of feeling guilty about it like i used to when i would drive somewhere within biking distance (although i must admit i haven’t been entirely car-free since i came back, thanks to some generous non-car-free roomies).

but what’s more, my mother loves her class. we’ve already had some wonderful conversations about her readings. she often calls me with questions about this or that and i love being able to use some of my knowledge for the good of someone else. she’s enjoying herself and at the same time is learning more about me and what’s been occupying the majority of my time for the last six years of my life.

when i made the deal with my mother i did it, at least in part, because i thought that winter biking would be a serious challenge. i thought i needed to have a good cause (i.e. my mother’s education)to keep me from getting bitter about not having a car on those -50 winterpeg days. but i’ll let you in on a little secret: biking in the winter is actually pretty wimpy. once i put on all my gear, i don’t feel a bit of cold. no, not even in -50. (insert evil laughter here) it’s actually so easy it almost makes me feel guilty. well… (more villainous laughter) …almost.

more from my commonplace book

I will probably return to say more about this poem later. Let it suffice for now to say that last summer was, for me, a liminal space of both the most pleasurable and probably the most difficult kind. At the end of it, when I was trying to relate to both myself and to some of my closest friends something of what had happened to me in those four transitional months and what I had learned in the midst of that time of neither here nor there, I found this poem so helpful. Love unknown by George Herbert:

Dear Friend, sit down, the tale is long and sad:
And in my faintings I presume your love
Will more comply then help. A Lord I had,
And have, of whom some grounds, which may improve,
I hold for two lives, and both lives in me.
To him I brought a dish of fruit one day,
And in the middle plac’d my heart, But he
(I sigh to say)
Lookt on a servant, who did know his eye
Better then you know me, or (which is one)
Then I my self. The servant instantly
Quitting the fruit, seiz’d on my heart alone,
And threw it in a font, wherein did fall
A stream of blood, which issu’d from the side
Of a great rock: I well remember all,
And have good cause: there it was dipt and dy’d,
And washt, and wrung: the very wringing yet
Enforceth tears. Your heart was foul, I fear.
Indeed ‘tis true. I did and do commit
Many a fault more then my lease will bear;
Yet still askt pardon, and was not deni’d.
But you shall hear. After my heart was well,
And clean and fair, as I one even-tide
(I sigh to tell)
Walkt by my self abroad, I saw a large
And spacious fornace flaming, and thereon
A boyling caldron, round about those verge
Was in great letters set A F F L I C T I O N.
The greatnesse shew’d the owner. So I went
To fetch a sacrifice out of my fold,
Thinking with that, which I did thus present,
To warm his love, which I did fear grew cold.
But as my heart did tender it, the man,
Who was to take it from me, slipt his hand,
And threw my heart into the scalding pan;
My heart, that brought it (do you understand?)
The offerer’s heart. Your heart was hard, I fear.
Indeed ’tis true. I found a callous matter
Began to spread and to expatiate there:
But with a richer drug then scalding water
I bath’d it often, ev’n with holy blood,
Which at a board, while many drunk bare wine,
A friend did steal into my cup for good,
Ev’n taken inwardly, and most divine
To supple hardnesses. But at the length
Out of the caldron getting, soon I fled
Unto my house, where to repair the strength
Which I had lost, I hasted to my bed.
But when I thought to sleep out all these faults
(I sigh to speak)
I found that some had stuff’d the bed with thoughts,
I would say thorns. Dear, could my heart not break,
When with my pleasures ev’n my rest was gone?
Full well I understood, who had been there:
For I had giv’n the key to none, but one:
It must be he. Your heart was dull, I fear.
Indeed a slack and sleepy state of mind
Did oft possess me, so that when I pray’d,
Though my lips went, my heart did stay behind.
But all my scores were by another paid,
Who took the debt upon him. Truly, Friend,
For ought I hear, our Master shows to you
More favour then you wot of. Mark the end.
The Font did only, what was old, renew:
The Caldron suppled, what was grown too hard:
The Thorns did quicken, what was grown too dull:
All did but strive to mend, what you had marr’d.
Wherefore be cheer’d, and praise him to the full
Each day, each hour, each moment of the week,
Who fain would have you be new, tender, quick.

The Haunted Palace

In the greenest of our valleys
By good angels tenanted,
Once a fair and stately palace -
Radiant palace – reared its head.
In the monarch Thought’s dominion -
It stood there!
Never seraph spread a pinion
Over fabric half so fair!

Banners yellow, glorious, golden,
On its roof did float and flow -
(This – all this – was in the olden
Time long ago)
And every gentle air that dallied,
In that sweet day,
Along the ramparts plumed and pallid,
A winged odor went away.

Wanders in that happy valley,
Through two luminous windows, saw
Spirits moving musically,
To a lute’s well-tuned law,
Round about a throne where, sitting,
Porphyrogene,
In state his glory well befitting
The ruler of the realm was seen.

And all with pearl and ruby glowing
Was the fair palace door,
Through which came flowing, flowing, flowing
And sparkling evermore,
A troop of Echoes whose sweet duty
Was but to sing,
In voices of surpassing beauty,
The wit and wisdom of their king.

But evil things, in robes of sorrow,
Assailed the monarch’s high estate.
(Ah, let us mourn! – for never morrow
Shall dawn upon him, desolate!)
And round about his home the glory
That blushed and bloomed,
Is but a dim-remembered story
Of the old-time entombed.

And travellers, now, within that valley,
Through the encrimsoned windows see
Vast forms that move fantastically
To a discordant melody,
While, like a ghastly rapid river,
Through the pale door
A hideous throng rush out forever
And laugh – but smile no more.

Edgar Allan Poe, 1845