My CAS Diary †Mountain bike riding Essay Example for Free

My CAS Diary Mountain bike ride EssayThis rather splendid activity I involved myself in took place in the uncouth district of Yarramundi. I accompanied the boys, Ben Irwin, David Wilkinson, Jordan Willis, Jarrod Quigley, Bailey McDougle and John Wright. This group had been forged by dint of a Tabitha elective in which I was non involved with. Despite my absence during the genesis of this group, they warmly welcomed me into their ranks, as one of their induce They went as far to facilitate me a sturdy steed of a mountain bike. The bike and I grew kinda close over our two journeys, tumbling though rocks, effortlessly riding through the toughest terrain in the Yarramundi heavens and, on occasions, tumbling into the think bush, which enclosed our already sm totally and treacherous riding track. I determine as if the previous sentence was not quite quintessential of the relationship I created with my exuberantly wonderfully bicycle. The only way I will be fit to express su ch feelings is through poetry, specifically that of John Dunne. The following exert has been taken from A Valediction Forbidding MourningBut we by a love so much refined,That ourselves know not what it is,Inter-assurd of the mind,Care less, eyes, lips and hands to miss.If they be two, they are two so As stiff twin compasses are two Thy soul, the fixd foot, makes no deliverTo move, but doth, if th other do.And though it in the centre sit,Yet, when the other far doth roam, It leans, and hearkens after it,And grows erect, as that comes home.I feel as if you too can now appreciate the bond made among man and machine. A bond, which can only be made when trudging through the harshest conditions. Where life can be taken away in a blink. Where every breath may be your last. The invest indispensable between myself and my monster was something incomparable to anything I consecrate experienced prior to this daytime. It has changed my life endlessly. Although, despite this, I am unsure w hether or not I am thankful for this burden of sorts.You see, the bike is not mine It is a love that I can never fully attain and this harsh creation tortures me in my mundane life I crave for such a feeling again. My every day life is plagued by the reminded that I will never be able to reach that level of love, trust and respect for anything else in my life. However, on the other hand I am forever thankful and forever in debt of the boys for introducing me to my machine, an instrument in which I created art with.What did I learn from this experience? Yet other mundane question I am made to answer through the unspoken covenant that rules my meditative statements. This is my silent protest to the trivialities of such a question, which insult the very memory of Her. The pen is stronger than the sword, honourable sir This is my rise against the stay putricting rules oppressing my broody creativity Despite this quarrel, I will answer your question, WITH ANOTHER QUESTION What hav e I NOT learnt from this wondrous experience?No answer? That is not a problem my good friend, for I am nurturing the answer in my complex and mysterious brain as I vitrine out, with passion, these very words youre reading. The answer is I have learnt everything I need to learn for my journeys through Yarramundi. I have learnt love, compassion and understanding, something conventional activities could never satisfy me with. Although, above all, this glorious, some may flush say life changing experience, I have gained a connection.A connection I alluded to in the above text but something that will never be able to be expressed through measly ink stains on paper No, sir They are of too high an order, too holy and all encompassing, too paralyzing for a mere mortal to comprehend (Although, Mrs. Menzies, I am sure youll be able to wrap your head around it with ease. This being because of your outstanding intelligence and other associated characteristics. Please let this reflective state ment suffice for now. I swear Ill get the rest to you soon)As think words of any great piece of writing leave you vernacularless, so will my eloquent speech render you into a mental, paralytic state that will leave you with a feeling of contentedness for the rest of your days.Unless I know who I am and why I am here, I can not live DostoevskyI am now alive.