Regret
I regret not having started Instagramming from the New Year’s Eve.
This would have been so perfect.
The Concord was the first racing push bike that I rode.
I have had the luxury of growing up in the countryside.
Where the streets have no names.
Where miles of ever-changing landscape surround you in perpetuity.
Pedaling faster to not be engulfed in a monsoon shower.
Where every second’s pause would mean that the clouds would take over the dry country roads.
Slopes, and climbs are the frequent reminder of how life has it’s ups, and downs.
Where beauty is in the eyes of the beholder.
Only if you could ease back from that frantic pedalling.
Only if you could look around you.
See mirth growing all around you.
Seasons come, and go.
The landscapes don’t wither.
Perhaps they change in shape, and form.
Perhaps they have a different set of hues within the abundance of nature.
Perhaps they are the reason why I found peace in some of the most lonely years of my life.
All you can think of is how slowly this world changes.
How it is that the slower things go, more beautiful do they become.
The slower you go, appreciative is how you feel.
Where the Concord comes to a halt.
Where you can pause.
Where there is beauty, and life.
The wisdom to appreciate it.
Regrets come from wanting.
A particular result.
They are fears of the past.
The cure for it, as for most things in life is gratitude.