Friday, March 8, 2013
Sunday, March 3, 2013
The Madness of Carmella III
Last weekend our beloved bike Carmella II was stolen. It was parked at a rack right next to a car parking lot, between two other bikes. (One being a Jamis!) When we returned to it from The Gap thirty minutes later it was gone, the space as empty as if the bike had never been there in the first place.
Those two tee shirts turned out to be very expensive, indeed.
Bargaining, anger, denial. Cockatoo went through all of the stages of grief. It wasn't until ten that night that we remembered that Tibetan Buddhist idea of tonglen--in this case, breathing in to aerate and break up all of that anger and exhaling empathy and compassion for all people who've suffered theft.
Not quite as fun as wishing miseries upon the rat bastard who stole my bike, but somehow beneficial nonetheless.
Friends were very kind and sympathetic, and Mr. Cockatoo was, too. "That bike meant something special." It did; I had found it on my father's birthday after a long search, leading me to think--only half-jokingly-- that Dad sent me a sign from heaven to buy it.
Well, emotions had to move aside for practicalities. We still had to get to work and the idea of driving was sad enough, and the idea of having to pay $9 for the "privilege" was even worse. So, our old bike, it was. Carmella, my first bike, was great for someone getting on a bike after years and years. Comfortable, predictable, reliable, but so, so heavy. The heaviness slows you down when you ride and makes you worry about your bike when transporting her.
Of course we were happy to still have Carmella but Carmella II, the stolen bike, was deeply missed. Cockatoo didn't see getting a new bike til Memorial Day, so...acceptance.
It turned out, though, that Mr. Cockatoo had a different idea for a timetable. When he came home Wednesday he came through the door with a bike...that looked just like Carmella II. Except it didn't have the sticker we had on her top tube. And it had tags hanging on the handlebars. He bought me a bike that's the same make, model, and colors has the stolen bike.
Paradise regained.
Cockatoo dubbed her The Madness of Carmella III. She flies down streets; we're airborne for minutes at a time. She slices through lanes and traffic and going uphill makes her laugh. Cockatoo smiles when she rides this bike; we have to force ourself not to let out a "Whoo Hoo!" lest we cause a disturbance on city streets.
Madness, yes, because it's insane to love something so much, to be grown and get such a kick out of a childish toy. Life is insane, when you're kind of down and then something splendiferous happens from out of nowhere.
The wonderful madness of seeing again for the thousandth time how splendiferous is Mr. Cockatoo.
Another Tibetan Buddhist idea is not being too attached to emotions as they're fleeting. Don't get too high from good events or low from bad. Sorry, but it will be a long time before I forget how happy I was Wednesday night.
Those two tee shirts turned out to be very expensive, indeed.
Bargaining, anger, denial. Cockatoo went through all of the stages of grief. It wasn't until ten that night that we remembered that Tibetan Buddhist idea of tonglen--in this case, breathing in to aerate and break up all of that anger and exhaling empathy and compassion for all people who've suffered theft.
Not quite as fun as wishing miseries upon the rat bastard who stole my bike, but somehow beneficial nonetheless.
Friends were very kind and sympathetic, and Mr. Cockatoo was, too. "That bike meant something special." It did; I had found it on my father's birthday after a long search, leading me to think--only half-jokingly-- that Dad sent me a sign from heaven to buy it.
Well, emotions had to move aside for practicalities. We still had to get to work and the idea of driving was sad enough, and the idea of having to pay $9 for the "privilege" was even worse. So, our old bike, it was. Carmella, my first bike, was great for someone getting on a bike after years and years. Comfortable, predictable, reliable, but so, so heavy. The heaviness slows you down when you ride and makes you worry about your bike when transporting her.
Of course we were happy to still have Carmella but Carmella II, the stolen bike, was deeply missed. Cockatoo didn't see getting a new bike til Memorial Day, so...acceptance.
It turned out, though, that Mr. Cockatoo had a different idea for a timetable. When he came home Wednesday he came through the door with a bike...that looked just like Carmella II. Except it didn't have the sticker we had on her top tube. And it had tags hanging on the handlebars. He bought me a bike that's the same make, model, and colors has the stolen bike.
Paradise regained.
Cockatoo dubbed her The Madness of Carmella III. She flies down streets; we're airborne for minutes at a time. She slices through lanes and traffic and going uphill makes her laugh. Cockatoo smiles when she rides this bike; we have to force ourself not to let out a "Whoo Hoo!" lest we cause a disturbance on city streets.
Madness, yes, because it's insane to love something so much, to be grown and get such a kick out of a childish toy. Life is insane, when you're kind of down and then something splendiferous happens from out of nowhere.
The wonderful madness of seeing again for the thousandth time how splendiferous is Mr. Cockatoo.
Another Tibetan Buddhist idea is not being too attached to emotions as they're fleeting. Don't get too high from good events or low from bad. Sorry, but it will be a long time before I forget how happy I was Wednesday night.
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