Three days ago I knew when I let out a long, primal, rage-filled roar that I had lost it, with “it” being any connection with my Higher Self.  Upon hearing my uncharacteristic outburst, Ty turned around in shock. I immediately felt ashamed, but I was too upset to care.  We had chosen to ride “the #1 mountain biking trail in the United States,” and certain rocky sections turned out to be well beyond my skill level.  Awash in a cascade of
negative emotions arising mostly from fatigue and fear, I was acutely aware that I had allowed myself to become “unbalanced” in every respect:  mentally, emotionally, spiritually, and even physically.

Several times as I tottered on the narrow trail I fought the urge to throw my new, high-end bike down the steep mountainside and walk the remaining miles back to our campsite in Rainbow, Oregon.  The fear of falling was at times paralyzing, the tension exhausting.  I tried repeatedly to check in with my Team above for help, but with my attention so completely focused on the physical, I had effectively severed all conscious communication with Spirit.  Twice I stopped to relieve the constriction by mentally clearing the self-inflicted blocks in my chakras.  These mini “time-outs” allowed me to finish the ride with body and bicycle intact but with my spirit badly bruised.

The next day I pampered myself.  I did no exercise and I meditated three times.  I also did a lot of
self-reflection, resulting in a bit of mental self-flagellation.  I had put myself in a situation on a trail
for which I was unprepared, and I paid the price of experiencing very human emotions.  Luckily, a friend reminded me that I am human, and it is okay to experience the fullness of what that entails, however unpleasant.
Yesterday Ty and I decided to ride the last section of the trail which we had bypassed when we ran out of time.  The lower part promised to be more benign as it was relatively flat and less technical than at the higher altitudes.  Within minutes of starting out I realized we were in for a more enjoyable experience.
Still, the first few times we encountered the ubiquitous rocks and roots that one finds on a typical wooded trail, I found myself tensing.
I quickly sent out a mental request to Sanaya:  “Help me out here, please, before I lose touch with you!”  Instantly the thought was given to me to repeat a mantra that had helped me in previous challenging situations:  “I am safe and protected.  I relax and breathe.”
I silently repeated the mantra and did as directed.  I relaxed, I breathed, and I discovered something amazing:  the more I relaxed my body and mind, the more the bike did what it was designed to do.  I tensed my arms on purpose and felt an immediate loss of control as the handlebars whipped left and right.  I deliberately held my breath and my entire body went rigid.  When I turned my arms into limp noodles and exhaled in a long “haaaah,” I and my bike flowed effortlessly over those pesky rocks and roots and I felt no fear.
After a few minutes I ceased repeating the mantra but continued focusing on relaxing and breathing.
I pedaled along effortlessly, flooded with insights from my Team.  The connection that had been so painfully cut off two days earlier was now wide open and Sanaya was chatting up a storm.
“It is in the pauses between the breaths where tension is generated,” Sanaya said.  “In that space between the breaths you make your choices from the sea of possibilities.  You can choose to experience
fear or you can choose to surrender.  Do not think.  Relax and we will do the driving.  Focus only on the ever repeating cycle of the in breath and the out breath and you will experience only peace.”
What followed was an exhilarating experience that turned a mountain bike ride into a metaphor for life.
It was all about surrendering and finding the balance.  For me, finding the balance between being human
and following the guidance of Spirit resulted in the balance I needed to remain upright on my bike.
By the time we reached the end of the trail I was grinning
from ear to ear.  I felt like a kid and wanted to say, “Can we do it again, Ty?” but it was time to head back to the
coach for dinner.  We did pause for a few minutes to sit in silence on the banks of the river that flowed alongside the path.  At first I sat with my eyes closed, grateful for the lessons learned.  Then I opened my eyes and contemplated the swift, crystal clear mountain water rushing by.  It flowed effortlessly over the rocks, doing what came naturally.
When I found myself in emotional pain three days earlier, I knew there was a lesson to be learned.  The next day in meditation I asked for that lesson to be revealed and released.   My prayers were answered when I faced my fears and returned to the trail in an area that was more suitable to my skill level.  There I learned that we enjoy our earthly experience far more when we
remember to relax and breathe.  Life flows when we allow the Intelligence that divides our cells, heals our wounds, digests our food, and keeps the earth rotating around the sun to guide our every move.  In that surrendered state of non-resistance we find the balance that allows us to ride over the obstacles in
our path with ease.