Spring's first ride

April 4, 2010—St Paul: Minneapolis.  28 miles

I forgot all the time to get ready to ride.

I forgot the best place to stash my wallet.   

I forgot where I left my goggles last winter.

I forgot my shoes, an extra layer, raingear before buckling up saddlebags.

I forgot the precise pattern that holds it all in place.

I forgot the size of Minnesota potholes.

I forgot how sand will slide your boot away.

I forgot merging trucks and texting teens.

I forgot to cancel my signal.

I just forgot… everything familiar. 

I forgot that you stand out walking down the street in full leathers and fringe.

I forgot how little girls and older women, too, often catch and hold my eye;

I forgot the shudder-shock of recognition. 

I forgot to look at the speedometer as much as I should.

And, I also forgot that fast feels good.

I forgot thought moves in altered rhythm.

I forgot the grit, the wind, the glare.

I forgot time and limits and a few assumptions too.

I forgot she’s far, far bigger than me.

I forgot, all along, being just a little afraid and a sliver outside. 

Practice

'Slow' - An Introduction

Hello. My name is Bonnie Schock, and you know, let’s just face it, even here on a blogspot this is a performative moment. Jazz Hands! Actually, this fact (of performance) is what interests me most about it: that everything I say is simultaneously truth and fiction. So, what impression do I want to give with this new blog? What identity shall I put forth to this particular audience? What role will I play for you, here, today?

To start off, I’d like to call your attention to a few recurring ideas as a kind of conceptual/non-linear outline, if you will, of this blog-performance introduction.

These guideposts are listed in alphabetical order, purely as a recognized method of organization which carries no additional meaning; they may pop up in any combination or order, blatantly or subtly, with intention or by happenstance, or perhaps you may not notice them much at all. But, I do.

In any case, they are things I believe in, ideas I’ve identified over time that frame the choices I make, appeal to my sensibilities and seem to serve as through-lines in the everyday performance of my varied identities.

Throughout this and future S(low)L(ook)P(ress)R(oll) blog posts, please Watch and Listen Carefully for…

Balance.

Contradiction.

Curiosity.

The Ephemeral.

Performance.

Rigor.

Transformation.

Surrender.

We’ve already hit on one, for sure. [PERFORMANCE]

Bearing all of these ideas in mind, I’m going to skip the standard facts and figures of your traditional introduction, the resume and the family history—suffice it to say that I’ve worked places and had titles and achieved a thing or two that I’m proud of both personally and professionally. Because I also believe in lived-experience as a source of knowledge [THE EPHEMERAL], instead, I’d like to share a few impressions and stories that have resonated for me as I have been thinking about beginning this blog.

According to Paulo Friere in his book Pedagogy of the Oppressed, “the more radical the person is, the more fully he or she enters into reality so that, knowing it better, he or she can better transform it. This individual is not afraid to confront, to listen, to see the world unveiled.” [TRANSFORMATION, RIGOR]

In addition to reading Friere, I’m a biker-chick. [CONTRADICTION, THE EPHEMERAL] Perhaps this seems insignificant. But, I’ve come to understand this practice as central to the way I wish to live my life. On a motorcycle, I am constantly aware of the dynamic tension between fear and abandonment. [BALANCE, SURRENDER]

Last summer, I took a pilgrimage to one of the largest and certainly the most famous motorcycle rallies on the continent in the Black Hills town of Sturgis, SD. It’s a spectacular Saturnalian ritual and I went seeking insight into the highly stylized performance of rebel identity in American culture. When it was all over, on the two day ride back to the ‘real world’, my companions (my husband and a close friend) and I pulled into Watertown, SD, rushing to pitch our tents and secure our gear in the very last available, extremely scruffy campsite before what promised to be a major storm. The town lived up to its name that night: for seven hours, sheeting rain, wind and lightning, epic in nature. When the rain finally stopped in the morning, I emerged from the tent to find myself and our bikes on an island, while all the campsites around us (each occupied by an RV by the way) were submerged in inches of water that had come within about two feet of our humble little tents. As I marveled at the scene—floating welcome mats and air mattresses, toppled camp chairs, children carried on shoulders, and if you can believe it, a double rainbow framing it all— a middle-aged woman with a slight limp made her way toward me across the lake. Calf deep in water, she shook her head and laughed warmly, “When you follow your heart down the road, you always end up in the right spot. Good for you, honey” she said. “Keep riding, will ya? For all of us who don’t.”

On a recent journey ‘home’ to my oceanside birthplace of Seattle, I had the chance to spend a few hours with my four year niece, Amandalee. We went to the Washington Arboretum, a place that is big and open and conducive to physical contests of all kinds—we had rolling on the grass relays, skipping stone challenges, races from this tree to that rock and back again. After one particularly exuberant session, we laid down for a rest. Side by side, gazing up through the leaves at the clouds passing above, I reflected aloud upon how fast she ran and how tall she’d gotten since I saw her last. “Yeah,” she said proudly “I’m big now. But, I think I’ll grow some more. Probably next year…” She paused and thought about it carefully in the way that four year olds do. “And the next year too.”

One more motorcycle metaphor. For those of you who ride, you know that there’s nothing quite like the feel of a good corner. Of course, as great as it is, it’s also the most dangerous part of riding. Single vehicle accidents are extremely common, when a motorcyclist simply runs off the road in a corner. But, never fear! I also happen to teach Motorcycle Safety. [CONTRADICTION] So, I have some helpful tips. “Proper cornering” as defined by the Motorcycle Safety Foundation is a simple 4 step process designed to minimize your risk.

Step 1: SLOW. In preparation for every corner, slow down. Use both brakes! Scrub off the extra speed from whatever road you’ve just traveled.

Step 2: LOOK. Turn your head. Look through the corner as far as you can see and focus – not on what’s in front of you, but— on where you want to go.

Step 3: PRESS. Press on the handlebars in the direction of the turn. In order to change your path of travel, you must purposefully throw yourself off center.

Step 4: (and this is the fun one) ROLL, ROLL, ROLL on the throttle!

Slow. Look. Press. And Roll... a philosophy for living.

So, who am I? I try each day to live inside the seeming contradictions of fear and abandonment, safety and risk—whether on a motorcycle or not. I strive to practice the radical creative act of entering fully into the realities and the fictions I encounter, thereby transforming the world. I follow my heart down the road, believing that when I do so with integrity, curiosity and purpose, I will end up in just the right spot; and in all of it I hope simply to grow some more next year and the next year and the next year and the next… and also the next one after that—on and on forever.

This, my very first blog, is a new performative adventure which serves as an alternative site of encounter, learning and risk-taking.