A Sacred Ride

Time is made up, right? Someone just decided that hours amount to days, and days to years…but this time in the universal arrangement, this very day – the season, the position of the planets and the sun and the moon – they cause me to hurt with every fiber of my being. On this day, six years ago – my mother died in my and my father’s arms. My heart broke and I spiraled deep into anxiety and addiction. I am now almost two years sober, and living a life of honesty…though the hole that exists where my mom was is as raw and infected as it was the day she died. But for the first time in six years, I feel like I paid real tribute to my mom.
I went on the longest ride of my life (in one shot, I’ve only been riding for 6 months) up Angeles Crest Highway, to a place I’ve never been. Alone. No dogs, no buddies. Just her and I. I left my house very anxious this morning, as I walked out to my motorcycle, one small bright green feather fell down in front of me. It was a hummingbird feather, and as many of you know – my mom had quite a special bond with hummers. So, I left. The second I hit the hot asphalt with that engine roaring between my thighs, my anxiety disappeared.

I rode. I prayed to my higher power (a nature-bound, genderless, powerful spirit) and I spoke to my mom. The terrain on Angeles Crest in the beginning is very “high desert.” Mountains covered in yucca and sage, cacti and succulents, a hot wind hitting my chest. Sweet, warm air flowing into my helmet and into my brain. I hardly saw another vehicle, and no one was traveling in my direction. I saluted the other rider and stopped to meditate at breathtaking view points.

  

The wind got stronger and the trees got bigger. Soon the air was filled with another spirit – the scent of conifers. If you can’t feel spiritual when inhaling that magical musk – you might not be human.

      
I swerved around pine cones and fallen rocks while I scanned the terrain for big horn sheep. Now there was absolutely no one was around. Not a man-made thing in sight save for the road and my machine. When I stopped to take in the views, it was like I could hear the spirits and souls that rest there. The wind was strong and thick with life. It’s not too often that I find myself THAT alone. It gave me true sense of “being,” combined with a small twinge of exciting fear.


I made it to Wrightwood, California. It was like a small riverside town from Minnesota had been picked up and plopped down in the mountains. My heart sang. I filled up my Sportster tank and asked the woman at the mini-mart for a recommendation of where to eat lunch. I went to a little bar called The Yodler, where I ate a veggie burger and BS’d with a local biker and the cynical/lovable bartender.

On my way home, the wind was strong. My hands and heels started to ache, but I lacked no confidence in my ability. After a while I stopped when the high-desert terrain reappeared. I heard cicada bugs! If you know me, you know my left arm is half covered by a tattoo of one of these magical creatures. I love them, they were a big part of my childhood and resided where I grew up. I don’t hear them too often in LA, so I reveled in the lonesome and nostalic sound. I sat in wildflowers and felt complete serenity and comfort.

  As I rode on, two old dudes on Harleys joined me for the good part of an hour. At first I was anxious by their presence, but after a while it comforted me to have myself flanked by clearly strong and veteran riders who paved the way for the likes of me.

I got home safe, sore, and emotional. Tears came. The feeling of complete loss, hurt, and helplessness that I feel everyday is amplified tonight by a thousandfold. I cherish it. I am grateful to love someone so deeply to feel this. To be so connected to someone that this magic occurs. I am grateful to have found my wings, my home on two weels. Truly, a good friend said to me when I got my bike, “welcome home.” And he was so, totally right.
Here’s to you, Juliana Genevieve Gabor. Here’s to everyone you touched, and here’s to living a life without fear or selfish thoughts, for you. Because of you.