My bike rides to and from work have proved to be an invaluable exercise; physically, mentally, and spiritually. Rarely do I go a week without some inspirational or significant discovery while on that seemingly tedious ride. Spending 20 minutes every morning and evening alone yet surrounded by the beauty of creation forces you to acknowledge your own thoughts and be present, both with yourself and I believe, with God, in the silence of solitude. It is an interesting concept. Although I bike past many other people and am in broad daylight in a fairly public setting, I cannot help but feel the weight of isolation just as keenly as I feel the bag on my back. Sometimes it even seems as though the roar of my beating heart is loud enough to drown out any music I might blast directly through my headphones into my mind.
I cannot escape the seclusion and thus am forced to embrace it and learn from it; for struggling is futile.
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I would like to share some of these musings and lessons I have learned with you.
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I will add more musings as I have them, that's usually how these things work, but they will all be added to this one page. However, the images below shall act as a sort of glossary, where each one holds the title of each musing. In this way, you merely have to check the images to see whether a new tale has been added or not!
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I would love for you to enjoy these thoughts of mine, but more importantly I hope they can help you to have thoughts and musings of your own. I believe that although most people do not get the chance of the unique daily solitude that a bike ride to work brings, it is still crucially important to take the time to think and be alone with those thoughts.
So please, think.
Musings
Wind
Smiling
Wind is an interesting thing. I call it interesting to hold myself back from calling it every other obscenity that I truly desire to call it, for biking along the canal to work the wind is never in my favour. Whether biking to or from work, it seems the wind knows just when to change direction and blow directly into your face.
Perhaps it just wants to give you that easy-breezy-covergirl feel as it whisks the hair away from your face.
Or perhaps it has less generous intentions.
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As I biked against some very vicious winds the other day it seemed I moved not a single inch, despite peddling with the utmost force I could muster.
And it never seemed to end.
There never seemed to be a single break in the gusts of the wind. No moment to rest; never letting up.
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While contemplating the horror of my situation and the miles that still stretched before me, it struck me that this was a spiritual warfare.
Here I was, struggling against this unseen, yet powerful force that sought to strike me down at every turn. I couldn't see what I was battling against, but I could see the evidence of it all around me. The waving of branches and the ruffled surface of the water attested to the presence of the wind just as surely as the destruction and chaos in the world now attests to the presence of another unseen force at work.
Just because you cannot see it does not make it ok to ignore it.
We should not become complacent and simply force ourselves to become accustomed to biking against the wind. It should still be a conscious battle. A purposeful fight. We have to know what we're up against.
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Just as we gave a name to the wind and allowed it to be known and recognized, we must name the forces we battle against in our lives as well. We should not simply submit to suffering in silence.
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I remember doing a project on the Canadian Goose back when I was homeschooled. I learned that geese fly in a V-formation so the one goose flying at the head breaks the force of the wind for all the others. They fly in each other's draft. You break the wind for the goose behind you, to make it easier for them. And then they swap out. When the lead goose gets tired he swaps out with a different, fresher goose. Like swapping drivers when you get tired.
You see, it's easier together. That's why we are called to community. That is one of the essential purposes of the church. To break the wind for each other, so we don't have to fight the endless battles of life alone.
So talk about it. Name the wind in your life.
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Just a thought.
Wind
Smiling
One of the very first things I discovered about biking was how personal and intimate it is compared to driving.
Or, at least, how personal and intimate it could be.
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Biking in the Netherlands is a casual practice that you do with friends, chatting as you bike along at a leisurely pace. This is nothing like Canada, where people commuting to work are all decked out in their bike spandex and shirts and clip-on shoes; timing their rpm’s and working hard to beat their own records every day! I have nothing against the Canadian way of course (I would likely be disowned by at least one family member if I did) I’m only pointing out how different one simple exercise is in these two countries!
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However, I have noticed that biking is not all it could be here.
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On my daily commute to work I pass countless other bikers, but this is not like your daily drive to work where you might glance briefly over into someone else’s car and see them jamming out to their music, or staring lifelessly over a Tim Horton’s cup or listening, enraptured by the incredible knowledge they are gaining on CBC radio. No, this is much more intimate. When I am biking, I am moving at the perfect pace of leisure and efficient speed so that one gets a good look at anyone biking in the opposite direction. You have enough time to scrutinize their biking style, taking pointers on how you might improve your own style. You analyze their attire, acknowledging in your heart of hearts that their slick black rain jacket fresh off the cover of a Vogue magazine might have a little more going for it than your own bright red soccer training jacket which you could fit another person underneath without intruding on their personal bubble. You have enough time that when you are both finished inspecting the other you yet have the opportunity to choose whether to look in their face or direct your gaze once more to the path stretching out before you along the scenic canal. For an individual like myself, my immediate inclination was to use that brief time span to smile and give a nod, as the few walking or biking individuals in my small Canadian hometown would do when crossing each other’s path.
This inclination, however, was quickly shut down in the world of the practical Dutch bikers.
How is this practical?
Well certainly, if you were to smile and nod at every biker you passed on your 25 minute commute to work your smile would be all worn out and your head near ready to topple off your shoulders when you finally step into the office. This is no stroll downtown Beamsville, where you might cross paths with five individuals on a busy day. No it is much different.
However, it still saddens me when I think how much brighter my day would be if those 25 minutes of biking were filled with the smiles and well-wishes of all I passed.
Oh the joy that could be spread and shared!
There are faces I am beginning to recognize on my daily commute, as they travel the opposite direction to me every day, yet still we have not shared a single smile or nod. I wonder if they recognize me too, or if I am just another faceless figure in the masses they pass by.
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I am also disappointed.
Not just by this sad fact but by the very fact that I have been so quickly and easily swallowed into this custom. My commute has become my own, not shared with the people around me as it could have been. I still hope and wish for that shared smile, but I attempt it less and less, slowly being lowered to the very level of the people I pity for their lack of friendliness.
So what am I to do? Ought I to continue putting in my headphones and directing my gaze to the nature before me, appreciating and being filled with the wonder of God’s majesty all around me? Or should I dive in and share his majesty with those I come across?
And could my actions, on their own, make a change?
Even if they caused one person to wonder and question where joy might come from so early in the morning, I should count that a success to write in the books of heaven.
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So bike on, my dear readers, bike on; but do not forget to smile. Smile and nod, just smile and nod.
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Just a thought.
I have always had a keen eye for nature, even from a very young age.
On hikes I was always the child with eyes peeled on the underbrush, ready to pounce into the foliage at a single rustle. I was practically a dealer in wildlife like salamanders, insects, turtles and frogs, with the other children in my homeschool group (yes that's a thing) as my faithful customers. I have spent hours sitting watching the activities of an ant hill; I can pick out a motionless owl in the expanses of a forest; I can tell the difference between the ripple of the wind versus a snake passing through... The list goes on and on.
Yes. I would like to argue that I have an eye for wildlife.
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Now what has this to do with biking and thinking?
Everything.
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For here in the Netherlands I have noticed the bleak absence of wildlife.
Besides all the dogs perched comfortably in bike baskets (genuinely, they are everywhere!), there is an extreme lack of creatures enjoying and relishing in the beauty of the canal I bike along every day to work! To be fair, I may just be noticing a shortage of the teeming numbers of squirrels and geese that I am used to in Waterloo, where I go to school, but I don't think that's fully it.
For full disclosure, there is another canal which encircles my town which is much more overgrown and less obviously man-made than my route to work. Along this other canal reeds, rushes, weeds and tall grasses make their presence known and consequently provide asylum for a diverse variety of wildlife. However, along the expansive and still beautiful canal that I bike along, there is no such shelter due to the very bike path I rely heavily upon for my semi-smooth and simple commute.
I am not attempting to condemn the Netherlands for wasted opportunities in regards to possible nature habitats, I am merely setting the stage.
For when there are few creatures to be seen, the ones that abide therein become that much more noticeable.
There are two great blue herons that, day in and day out, find their perch on the very edge of the canal. Like a sentinel; guarding the bike path from the horrors and depths of the murky waters. Always on the same side of the canal, always somewhere within the same 100m stretch of land.
Constant.
Consistent.
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This is what struck me most.
The consistency was uncanny.
One, if not both of them, would be balanced gracefully atop those long gawky legs as you passed by on your way to work, and they would be there again when you returned home at the end of the day.
My housemates and I conferred and questioned and exclaimed over their daily presence. We were simply in awe; in baffled wonderment.
Why?
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We are not shocked by the sun rising anew each morning, nor that leaves change colour and fall from trees in autumn. These too are consistent expressions of nature. Yet they are so different. Whatever you believe about the intelligence level and consciousness of animals, it is clear that a heron has the capability of choice. They are not dictated by some innate and uncontrollable behaviour that forces them to return to the same location to hunt day in and day out. There are countless canals just a quick flight away, but all of them are ignored.
Thus we are left stumped. Perplexed.
How could anything so independent and free be so consistent and reliable?!
It garners respect.
And yet, how much more consistent and reliable is the saving grace and unconditional love of the Father?
That is what struck me. I am put into a bewilderment when confronted with the simple dependability of the behaviours of a heron, and yet I think I am capable of understanding and acknowledging the eternal unfailing consistency of the God of the heavens.
I hear the words unfailing and unchanging and think, "well of course God is both of those things" without a second thought as to how difficult and unfathomable it is to be either of these characteristics! If I think my mind can ever grasp the full meaning of these phrases then I only prove to myself how far from the mark I strike, because when confronted with an example as simple as a heron I am flabbergasted!
I ought to awake every morning in utter awe, humility and gratitude that the God of herons and humans alike is absolutely and utterly dependable.
For there is nothing as constant as he.
Just a thought.
The Heron
Hues of Irony
The Heron
Falling Leaves
Autumn is most definitely my favourite season of the year. The beautiful changing colours paired with the crisp smell of harvest, not to mention the joy of the subtle crunch of leaves and sticks beneath your feet... All these aspects lend to a general greater awareness and observance of the nature around you.
As I biked to work the other day I witnessed a most miraculous feat of God’s hand in the midst of his beautiful creation:
A leaf fell from a high bough to the ground far below.
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It floated gracefully and gently on the breeze; wholly incapable of either arresting or initiating that fall. It was simply compelled by the Spirit on the breeze just when and where to fall.
It struck me in that moment that all of creation declares the glory and majesty of its creator. There surely was no way in which that leaf may have fallen from its place in a manner more exalting and more perfect. It was all planned.
The breeze that caught that leaf at exactly the right moment so as to flit and whisk in its grasp. That was planned. The glistening of sunlight off the curvature of the leaf as it twirled. That was planned. The hue and intensity of the auburn woven through the original strands of green within the very veins of the leaf. That was planned. All of it was planned for the Lord’s ultimate pleasure, but also for mine. So that when I biked past that tree, unsuspecting and unawares, my eye would be caught by the flitting of a fragment of pure mastery as it drifted past me. So that my mind, previously caught up in my own thoughts, worries, business and troubles would be turned to the only one worth pondering. My mind was turned to the God of all creation and suddenly my problems were forgotten. I was filled only with his peace and restorative comfort. I was caught up in his arms of unending and unconditional love; all from the fall of a single leaf upon the breeze.
For this leaf was a reminder of his creative genius but above all else, of his love for me. God has said in his Word that we are his most prized possession. This means that despite all the beauty and majesty he has created, he chooses us above it all. Although he owns every galaxy, he calls us his shining star. We who were made in his image yet who scorned that image and turned our back on him, choosing instead to rely upon the strength of the very flesh and bone he gave us. He chooses us when we place every glittering bobble and shining trinket before him. Despite all this, he chooses us each and every day.
The world certainly is filled with God’s glory. It was shaped by his glory and shaped to declare his glory with each and every edge, corner and angle. Yet we are so caught up in our own fanciful lives that we are missing it at every turn.
This is why I give thanks to my Lord my God, who loves me so desperately and ardently that he would design and destine for the most splendid of leaves to fall on that day as I biked to work. I was reminded then, of where my mind truly ought to dwell: on the glory and brilliance of my king.
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Just a thought.
Falling Leaves
Hues of Irony
For a few weeks, due to conducting experiments, I had to be at work much earlier than usual.
I have begun to realize that in the world of a researcher, experiments control and dictate your existence much more than you do theirs.
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But no matter.
I biked to work an hour earlier than usual. That was all.
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Yet, it is amazing how great a difference an hour, even a mere half hour, can make on a bike ride!
It determines whether you need to remember to turn your lights on. It drastically changes the number of people you pass on your commute, as well as the general type of people you pass - groups of children on their way to school suddenly exceed the nine-to-five-ers. It differentiates between dew-covered grass or a real rain fall.
And, consequently enough, it significantly influences the mood in which you commute.
At least, it does so for me.
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I am one of those people who, if I wake up ten minutes before my alarm is to go off, will heave a grateful sigh at the sight of the clock and roll back over; basking in those extra ten minutes of "sleep". I consider 6:50am to be an unearthly time, but 7:05 is perfectly appropriate.
So an extra hour or half hour of sleep in the morning?
An earth-shattering difference.
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Still, I try not to let it affect me, and I have the commendable raising of my mother to thank for my perseverance in this area.
I can still remember days where I was sent back upstairs to my room until I could start school in a cheerful manner. One was not allowed to be grumpy, that was out of the question! And despite what you might be thinking, I really did want to begin my school right away because the sooner I finished my work, the sooner I could escape to go and play!
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But back to the scenario.
Despite my best efforts, the earlier mornings affected my overall psychology so it should come as no surprise that on the last of my early risings (for a while at least) I arose filled with the joy and excitement of it being the last of its kind!
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Oh the irony that God had in store for me.
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Immediately upon exiting my house I was immersed in the most brilliant of mornings.
The sky was alit with the most stupendous shades and hues of red and pink,
weaving through the wispy tendrils of small fluffy clouds.
And it only got better.
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Never has a canal seemed more complimentary to the art of the heavens.
Biking along that canal the shining surface seemed to reflect the gorgeously
breathtaking rays of sunshine straight into my face.
Like a playful child waving a feather under your nose,
eyes aglitter with mischievous intent.
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I could feel the water laughing at my naive ignorance.
Every ripple, the wiggle of an amused eyebrow on the face of my all-knowing Creator.
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I had nearly allowed myself to be so caught up in the joy of endings that I would have completely ignored the benefits of those early rides.
If the Lord had not shown up in literal brilliance I might have carried on with my life without an ounce of gratefulness for those early mornings. Nor would I have felt any regret in losing them.
Because I would be getting those extra few precious minutes of sleep right?
So worth it...
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Thanks be to God that he cares enough to point out to me my error in the most loving and glorious manner.
If only I could be so gracious when I point out the oversights of others.
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Just a thought.
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Unseen Forces
This past week I was able to experience a much different form of biking.
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Recently I journeyed on what I considered a quick jaunt from Holland over to Portugal with my mother, although for Europeans this was a far trip indeed.
Funny how even distances can hold such a different weight of import in unique cultures.
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From the very first I could without a doubt, had there been any to begin with, tell that we had left the Netherlands because of the vast hills and wide variations in ground level that even the view from the plane yielded me!
However these hills soon proved to be more than a mere manifestation of our location. While traversing over the beautiful and jam-packed streets of Portugal I actually travelled both horizontally and vertically! In noticeable amounts!
How absurd!
Truly the flat airs of the Netherlands have been getting to me!
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Yet back to it.
On one lovely morning my mother and I ventured to the beach town of Caiscais and rented bikes for the day so we could obtain the entirety of the coastline views without going too much over our typical ~20,000 logged steps a day.
I have not biked up, or down a hill in months!
Let me say that the thrills of coasting down a hill with the warm wind whipping your hair is dampened significantly by the exertion of climbing back up that hill on a single-gear bike.
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However even in this matter we experienced the providential grace of our humorous Father.
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As we started the journey of biking back from the farthest point of the trail, we were faced with a mostly uphill stretch. Yet no sooner had we set foot to pedal than we were caught up in the powerful grasp of the gusting wind that had only just scared us away from the vulnerably open beach front.
Now when I say "powerful grasp" I mean exactly that.
I only exaggerate slightly when I say that my pedals did not turn a full rotation for nearly a full kilometre despite the fact that I was travelling uphill. And I was not moving at a snail's pace either!
The thing with single-gear bikes is that unless you can spin your legs faster than a hamster on steroids, once you have hit a certain moderate speed you actually cannot easily go any faster.
With the wind at my back I would have hardly increased my speed at all had I attempted pedalling then.
It was a wonderfully luxurious way to travel.
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As wonderful as it was, however, it is not the point of this tale.
This happenstance merely brought my thoughts back to a point earlier in the day when I stood upon a vast rocky outcropping and surveyed the crashing waves below me. The waves were stupendous and their frothing remains on the jagged rocks attested to their strength. Yet I could not help but think, with instigation from my mother, about where these waves got their power from.
Each wave consists of countless water droplets that we cannot even comprehend measuring. Each droplet in itself holds no power, yet together they are unstoppable.
But even then, the wave itself would be flat and calm without the overarching influence of the winds and tides.
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All of these complimenting, unseen forces were bestowing a truly remarkable energy into the waves, yet so often go unnoticed and uncredited.
Just as the invisible winds at my back (for once!) were propelling me forward to new lengths and bounds without an ounce of help on my part.
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I think it is too often that we look at the actions and products of life without taking a moment to ponder the source of these behaviours.
I gladly and proudly acknowledge that none of the successes, advancements and achievements of my life derive from my own omnipotence. Truly, they arise despite my utter deficit of all individual ability.
Thanks be to the One to whom all credit is due.
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Just a thought.
Unseen Forces
Active Listening
I have been learning recently how important it is to be actively living out your faith. In fact, I am starting to think that if you seem to be living it only passively, you are not living it at all. If the gospel has fully gripped my heart and mind I would have no other desire than to live it boldly, loudly, and actively.
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These thoughts were inspired by a few ducks.
More than a few ducks actually.
There were dozens of them!
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I was biking along my usual canal, taking in the familiar views and sights, but was gazing at the world around me in a more fervent and animated manner than usual. Now that I have begun sharing my thoughts with others I felt a pressure, mainly from myself, to have a higher caliber of thought. To have more inspirational musings to share, and more often.
So there I was, sitting atop my bike, hurriedly looking to and fro for something, anything, that might spur a creative thought.
That is when I saw the ducks.
I would love to say that the sight of them lit the fuse of my brain and I was enveloped in deep and meaningful thought which utterly enriched my bike ride and left me feeling filled and content... but to say so would be a stark lie.
I was filled with no wise words or gripping thoughts. In fact quite the opposite.
I racked my brain to determine a way that their ability to sit on the very edge of the path without moving a muscle, no matter how near the bikes came, could tell me something about God and his character and love for me.
Yet still I drew a blank.
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That is, until that blank opened up a world of new possibilities to me. For a blank space is really just a canvas for the unrestrained unloading of the mind's creativity.
I had felt guilty, in that moment, that I was actively searching for more "thoughts" to have and to share. Now, there is merit to this thinking as my motivation was my own pride and selfishness in wanting more to write about. However, I suddenly realized that it was not wrong to be actively searching and listening for the words of God in the midst of regular life.
In fact, that is how we ought to live every day:
Actively looking at each regular, everyday aspect of life with fresh eyes which have been opened anew to the wondrous touch of our Father in Heaven. Opened to the works of his hands weaving through even what we consider the boring and tedious moments of each day.
If we are not actively searching for lessons from him, how can we expect to see them?
Were we not all taught the value of active listening?
Even the ducks can bring lessons of new life.
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Just a thought.
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