adventures

This weekend I had two adventures. They were adventures because I did not plan or calculate the arrival at the end result. I was not in control of the process. On saturday I took a bike ride along the Torrens linear park from the city to henley beach with a friend. The trip took a little longer than expected and we arrived in the early evening to have a meal at henley square. Not feeling brave enough to tackle the hour ride back in the dark past cemetaries and secluded underpasses we realised we had other options to determine our fate. Ride back long anzac highway where at least there was light, ride to glenelg and catch the tram back to the city, or find the nearest train station. We chose the latter, after consulting the trusty iphone for measures of proximity. Just as we pulled up to the station, the train came in and we hopped on board. There is something highly organic about public transport, but in particular trains. They glide in and out of stations like animals transitioning habitats, they have no master, drivers are invisible and therefore unconsidered. Semingly free-willed, they just gently amble through suburbs with us settled in their bellies, lulled by their rhythmic force.

The whole process of the day was completely spontaneous and evolutionary but we arrived at the expected product, our own homes at the end of the day none-the-less. I continue to wonder why I have such little trust in the maker of the universe to write my story when the rewards of letting go are so freeing. Take my pencil.

Adventure two happened at the adelaide show. Unlikely backdrop I know. We were settled down at the end of a tiring day of agricultural ogling, watching a 'mentalist' show when 10 minutes into his act the skies opened and the gods emptied their dishwater. Never the less, this poor mystical sod kept rambling about finding the playing card with the random audience members name on it, long after the speakers had been moved out of the down pour and the stage receded under the shelter beyond viewing capacity. The rain was heavy and unrelenting, and it seemed we were the only souls crazy enough to traipse through the puddles mixed with softened cow manure and skirt around the streams running over poorly irrigated ashphalt. The crowds peered out from behind toilet walls and cow sheds, watching these tragic figures with their bright umbrellas and splashy sneakers blink back raindrops in their forge ahead. I'm glad I was the one soaked to the skin, completely sensory-saturated and knowing I was alive. I'm ready for the next adventure.