Writing…and Riding

So… something I discovered about myself…that I didn’t realize….

Writing and writing about riding…it’s slowly, but surely my way to healing.  We all know by now, I had a store…that’s how many of you know me. Losing my store is still very real, still very in my face, still hurts, still stings, still.

So riding is something that I do because I love the wind in my face, the adrenaline I get, the control and freedom that I have and for the beauty that I see. The therapy one gets from being in the moment of the ride, forgetting of what muck you are treading through as you glide over every rock and every crack.

As riding is a form of “wind” therapy, putting my feelings down, pen to paper if you will, takes that very intangible thing that weighs so heavily on my shoulders, that only I bare, that only I feel, that only I see and just so slightly alters it into validation, a type of agreement with my soul that I will allow myself grieving time. I will allow myself to move past this moment in time when I am ready.  A type of validation one can only give to oneself. It makes my very intangible feelings, tangible. Something that is now real, I can touch it, and feel it, and even manipulate it, change it, control it.

Self discovery is big, especially if x does not mark the spot, if the clue to the ” Treasure” is missing, then getting there, all the more challenging.

So I have been given the gift to “spin” a very boring mundane tale, into one that keeps you coming back just to see how my manipulation of words transport its readers down the same trail I am seeing, traveling, and scouring, so what I am feeling can be as well, felt by its reader.

In doing so, I am, if you will, letting go of what I cannot change or manipulate to not have had happened.

And when the reigns are freed, healing takes place, if ever so very small, if ever so slightly, perhaps not even to the naked eye, but even so, ever so.

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