Summit Wellness: Gratitude - "When The Dark Cloud Dissipates"

By Matt Anthony - Summit FM Digital Media Specialist

I could see it on the horizon. A dark, sinister atmospheric ‘lump’ that was advancing, moving quickly towards me. There was no way I was equipped to out-run it. I had been warned of this day. But how was it possible? That pristine Saturday afternoon had offered unparalleled serenity. Just me, a Jeff Buckley tune dancing inside my noggin, abundant sunshine, and the sexy, motorized rumble of a Triumph Bonneville underneath my leather-clad corpus.

But there it was. It looked like the ‘Darth Vader’ of cloud formations. I realized that I could not turn around. It would do no good, anyway, based on the speed of its movement. And since I was unfamiliar with the roadways in that stretch of eastern Ohio, I felt uncomfortable veering off on to a country road.

I had to face the music.

Riding a motorcycle in inclement weather teaches you about your limitations. It makes you respect that natural order of things. It focuses attention on objects that, in a car, would seem non-existent, like maintaining balance and safety through the build-up of pebbles while cornering. Most importantly, it places your definition of ‘riding defensive’ at the top of the pyramid.

It also introduces you to sounds and feelings that reek of unfamiliarity: large drops of precipitation slamming into a plastic face-shield, a loud, wet chorus of 18 tires separating sheaths of water as a truck invades your space going in the opposite direction, and saturated riding gloves and shins, helpless against a cloud-burst’s onslaught.

To this day, I’m flabbergasted at the thought of the speed of this natural phenomenon, and how quickly it enveloped me that day. I would encounter multiple instances like that one later in my riding career. But I’m equally as amazed at my reaction: sheer panic, then resignation, then outright clarity.

Do what you were taught.

“Hey, world, you know you gotta put up a fight.”

• Michael Franti

Facing an adversity can make us grateful for the experience. We may not have asked for it. We may doubt our ability to weather it. And we may not even know if we’re capable of confronting these things, much less experiencing a victory. But an obstacle can be a path to some form of self-discovery that could make us aware of something about ourselves that we didn’t know was even there.

Losing 10 pounds. Finishing a course started long ago. Finally picking up that guitar. These can be daunting challenges that may cause us, time and time again, to shrug off the inclination to actually start the process.

For me, it was riding a motorcycle. I had always wanted to do it, but I was frightened, and I was constantly told that I couldn’t. But while living in St. Louis, I finally decided to sign up for a course. I struggled. I doubted myself. Heck, I even dropped a motorcycle during an exercise! But getting that certificate and driving home afterwards, with that feeling of satisfaction, was exceptionally gratifying.

I experienced the same feeling while stopping for a coffee after my dance with the dark cloud that day. I was intact. I was safe. I had utilized what I had been taught, and I weathered something that I didn’t think was possible. It felt gratifying to say that I had come through on the other side.

But there’s a fundamental truism to always keep in mind: The clouds never stop. While I no longer ride, the confrontations continue. Riding through a torrential storm with nothing or nobody to protect you has been replaced lately with confronting Donna’s cancer, navigating the Alzheimer’s journey, and trying to come to terms with a life and whether it’s been well-lived. Who will we be when the dark cloud leaves? What will we have learned? Can we find gratitude deep inside the experience, knowing that one lesson learned will lead to yet another that needs addressed? Resigning ourselves to the fact, and finding comfort somewhere in it, makes gratitude that much more magnified.