that elusive happiness

Sometimes the drudgery of everyday routines or the ponderous details in our lives cause us to descend into the occasional melancholic introspection. We become upset, maybe feel utterly helpless or inept; we also behave a tad unpredictably, acting even like an idiot perhaps. Mood swings are likely, just as unusual reticence is understandably normal. This is perhaps when we yearn to be left alone or desire company, depending on the individual. It is also when we find ourselves delving into the past to seek assurance or looking into the future and contemplate answers. Often, the familiar become something we cling to, as though the mere act of possessing or doing them manifests relief. And so it is that we look through precious photo albums, or run in the dead of the night and feel the caress of a cold breeze, or sit in front of the TV and keep changing channels, the purpose of which is of course not to watch any particular show. The idea, basically, is to keep ourselves occupied and numb our feelings. No doubt most of us get upset and hung up on many things every now and then (not that we can help it sometimes); the difference lies in how we survive the temporary misery.

Cycling on the road the other day, it struck me that happiness is the feeling which transpires when you do things you genuinely enjoy. There is no striving to attain happiness because it comes naturally when you are at ease with yourself and free from any inhibition. There was a fun race at Mount Faber that morning and while i did not take part in the race itself, i nonetheless cycled my way down. I was tired and i hadn't rode for quite some time and there were dreadful deadlines looming at the back of my mind. But as soon as i hit the road, i could almost feel deeply the familiar sense of liberation which always transpires when i'm riding my bike. This sense of liberation is also what motivates me to pedal harder, cycle further, go the further mile. Apart from the hazardous traffic, there's little that interferes with the ride: my legs worked the pedals, my hands gripped the handlebar and my eyes focused on the unravelling road ahead.

Other kinds of sports can equally bring joy to the practitioner, but there's a connection between a cyclist and his bike that is inseparably linked to the liberation and joy which he experiences while riding. As the cyclist moves constantly he sees scenery and people and things that pass him by relentlessly, even if these enter and exit the mind only for a fleeting moment. Perhaps it's the transience, or perhaps it's the beauty of the ordinary which appears only briefly and from a distance - there's something about cycling past objects and through human space that has the capacity to move, even inspire.

I like to think that cycling is a very down-to-earth activity (not in the literal sense): You go as fast as you are willing to push yourself, relying on personal will and strength. More important, there's a sense of equanimity that accompanies you whenever you pedal your bike and cycle into the distance. I reckon this equanimity which cycling affords is what makes me feel unfailingly liberated and happy each time i'm on the bike.

Nevertheless, all these aside, i was happy cycling down to Mount Faber that morning because i was doing something i enjoy - pure and simple as that.