Hollow heart Hollow Earth
See you on the inside Murph ♥︎
I’ll see you on the inside Murph ♥︎
Pavement gravel dirt nothing
Leave the pavement
Leave the gravel
Leave the dirt.
Find nothing.
Leave yourself.
Find everything.
ELEVATION
Farther than the sun, the distant breeze, The spheres that wilt to infinity
The moon somewhere in northern California.
Another favorite from Baudelaire.
Elevation
by Charles Baudelaire
Translated by William A. Sigler
Above the ponds, beyond the valleys,
The woods, the mountains, the clouds, the seas,
Farther than the sun, the distant breeze,
The spheres that wilt to infinity
My spirit, you move with agility
And, like a good swimmer who swoons in the wave
You groove the depths immensity gave,
The inexpressible and male ecstasy.
>From this miasma of waste,
You will be purified in superior air
And drink a pure and divine liqueur,
A clear fire to replace the limpid space
Behind this boredom and fatigue, this vast chagrin
Whose weight moves the mists of existence,
Happy is he who vigorously fans the senses
Toward serene and luminous fields—wincing!
The one whose thoughts are like skylarks taken wing
Across the heavens mornings in full flight
—Who hovers over life, understanding without effort
The language of flowers and mute things.
The Good waiting
The good doesn't care how you get there, but it’s waiting.
My Credence MOD, one vessel that’s carried me through life in a city, life in the mountains, life in the forest, life in the desert, life by the sea, life after surgery, life out of my car. life with clocking in and life after.
“There is always so much good out there for us, waiting.” a friend wrote in response to some travel photos I shared in our years long, but intermittent email chain.
I agree, but I’m sure he played some role in shaping my opinion when in 2004 his BMX company put out a world tour video.
The riding in the video was raw, powerful, and inspiring, but the context of the riding was the belle of the ball, not the progression of tricks, the promotion of products, not even the riders.
The spirit of exploration imbued every part of the trip.
A world tour seeking out ruined ramps in vast, desolate landscapes, immaculate architecture calling for a carve betwixt esoteric sculptures in ancient cities, improbable skateparks lacquered in vibrant graffiti embedded in equally vivid cultures in stark contrast to our own, and plenty of bizarre, shreddable, infrastructure monoliths rising from distant no man's land horizons that act as anchors, beacons, portals, and corridors to an experience that is greater than the sum of its parts. Many of which became pilgrimage sites for following generations.
In that context the bike is just the vessel ferrying us, and our friends, through our experience.
How rad we get, or how much fun we have along the way is up to us, and if we make these experiences entirely about the bike and how we're riding it, we risk making our vessel into a cardboard boat, permeable, soggy with time, and easily sunk by the waves and rain from the inevitable storm of entropy.
26 years into my own riding, I still wake up with this electrostatic feeling in my skin, a hunger for a carve on the edge of traction, the cresting arc of a good air, wall rides, and the buzz of discovering new ridescapes.
But, I know the bike is just a vessel, an avatar, and it could easily look like a skateboard, a pair of shoes, walking your dog, a guitar, a pen, a camera, anything, any activity.
It can take any form because the power isn't in the vessel, it's in the understanding that "There is always so much good out there, waiting."
When you know that, the vessel appears in a form just for you.
MOUNTAIN TIME
Shipping for winter is going down to once per week.
Wintering in a remote location. Orders will ship on Thursdays.
Thank you—N
