Saturday, March 31, 2007
Truly having nothing to prove
As I have grown older, I believe that I have acquired a better understanding of what it means to be human and with that understanding, an appreciation for how little meaning exists in most human beings. That is not to say that there are not certain humans I care a great deal for, but the number of people I truly respect has gone from few to hardly any with time. Most people are too busy to get involved, too busy to care, and too busy to back up their words with any genuine action. Most people are talkers, who rarely follow through. As such, their opinions are meaningless spittle being pissed into a head wind that is rapidly passing them by.
For most of my youth, I spent a great deal of my time worrying about what such people thought. I made the mistake of fearing the unknown in the form of their perceptions of who I am, what I stand for, etc. It took most of the years between 20 and 25 to realize how utterly full of shit these people really are. Freeing the self of their illusory burden was an experience akin to shedding a rotten, dreary skin, for something much more vibrant and fresh. Focusing on the insights, rather than the opinions, of the few humans I have known who were worthy of respect (or even esteem) altered my internal perception irrevocably. My concept of what it meant to be a Man in this world changed entirely. In what seems like an instant, I slashed the tether that binds so many of us to commonalities and started looking for a different way of seeing the world.
The point is, I discarded any sense that I needed to prove myself to anyone. The fact of the matter is, I will not ever make the sort of money, wield the sort of power, or carry the sort of prestige that seems to mesmerize the elite and the proles alike. It's not a matter of capabilities, it's a matter of motivation. How motivated are you to be wealthy? Famous? Powerful? These things mean NOTHING in the great journey. We may be able to enjoy the tangible fruits of hoarding, accumulating, and consuming, but in a world where life is temporary and the mysteries seemingly infinite, what difference do any of these things really make? With so few altruists amongst this world's ruling class, what is the point of power and wealth beyond the stroking of one's proverbial phallus in front of a horde of hallow admirers and hangers on?
The proverbs and dictates of the world's religions are there for a reason. For nearly 5000 years, humans have been recording history, passing the lessons of previous inhabitants to subsequent generations in a continual, though not entirely successful, effort to push the species toward some promised, "better tomorrow". In the end, how far we have traveled is highly debatable. What cannot be debated is the insignificance of a purely visceral, physical, closed existence. So then, it is completely ridiculous to prove anything to anyone but one's self. No one else's journey matters if yours is one wasted, because everyone's life you touch will be tainted by your wasted time, rather than blessed by your shared knowledge and lessons.
In so many ways, we waste our time and our energy proving to others what has no real meaning to ourselves. I've been there, done that, but no longer recognize the drive as being valid...haven't for a long time, really.
I think of this as I read an article written by a sportbike rider chastising, when not outright condemning, humans foolish (or cowardly) enough to ride a Harley-Davidson. Most people(myself included, perhaps) really are little more than shortsighted, insecure, pathetic little monkeys. It's sad, in a way, but not at all surprising. The worst part is, I like sportbikes. In fact, I was seriously thinking about buying one last year, but ultimately circumstances and the realization that I would very likely drive too fast, too often, discouraged the purchase.
In my experience, the sportbike crowd is more about risk taking, showing off, and engaging in generally dangerous behaviors. They are thrill seekers, and while I have no problem with that, the general attitude in the sportbike scene seems to be an ugly, egotistical, insecure one. That is not to say the Harley crowd doesn't have its issues. It amazes me how many people on Harleys carry some preconceived notion of superiority, simply because they spent more money than the next guy. Many of them are posing as rebel bikers in the Easy Rider vein. These types of people buy bikes to get laid, and you'll find a lot of that in the Harley and Sportbike worlds. That's not what I'm about. In fact, having a motorcycle will very likely hurt my chances with the kind of girl I would like to date, but ultimately, that's irrelevant to me.
I want a Harley because it is slow, loud, and beautiful. A Harley-Davidson harks back to an era when people were polite, when sleeping with an 100 people wasn't "sexual experimentation", and when drugs weren't a mainstream, recreational activity. It symbolizes a piece of Americana that probably never actually existed, but one that I would still like to experience. I could get a sportbike and go 150mph as if I was doing 55, but why? At this point in my life, I'd rather fly low and slow, enjoying the scenery and relaxing on the back of an old school, low-revving V-twin. I want to take some long rides. I want to get away from exactly the sort of people that seem to dominate the sportscar and sportbike scenes. There's nothing left to prove to any of these people, so why bother trying?
Labels: life
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