Life

Life is Movement

by

My mom always sends the best cards.

“Life: that’s movement. Movement is evolution. Evolution is progress. Progress means to come closer to your goal.”

 

My mom sends the best cards.
The cards my mom sends regularly are true gems of love.

 

During my 2006 solo cross-country motorcycle road trip I kept one of my mom’s cards in my tank bag during the entire trip. Please enjoy the excerpt from Girls Don’t Ride Motorbikes – A Spiritual Adventure Into Life’s Labyrinth, describing the morning of August 14, 2006, Chapter 1:

 

Wearing heavy biker boots, I grabbed my jacket and helmet. One last time I glanced at the silver frame that held a picture of my father. He rode my silver-grey mare, Estella, wearing a white shirt, black pants and leather boots. He was a tall, handsome man with broad shoulders, dark black hair, a full beard and a nose distinctively shaped like a hawk’s beak. His tough hands held the reins and my horse obeyed. She bent her neck with discipline. The picture had been taken on the green fertile land of our family farm in the Lower Rhine Valley of Germany. Wild chestnut trees stood tall and straight in the background, a clear metaphor for a strict upbringing. My father’s bright green eyes did not look into the camera but rather at a far point in the distance. He smiled contentedly.

 

A cold shiver stopped me as I walked down the stairs. For a moment, I felt my father’s presence. He tugged my right shoulder back, and his warning voice whispered into my ear, “Girls don’t ride motorbikes.” I shook him off and hurried to the garage.

 

Frank was busy strapping the luggage onto my blue Suzuki Bandit 600. Two saddlebags and one tour bag held the bare necessities for the six-week trip. I strapped on the tank bag, held by magnets on top of the fuel tank. It held my maps, a camera, a recording device, a picture of a labyrinth and a St. Christopher medallion, the protective saint of travelers. I zipped the card I had received from my mom into a separate compartment. It read: ‘Dear Dorit, I send my best wishes to you for a good journey. I wish you joy, equal to the infinite number of drops in a refreshing morning rain, and fortune that equals the number of stars in the sky. I wish you love as much as the sun has rays. And when you stand up high on a mountain road, close to the heavens, remember that your family loves you and your father is watching over you from the other side. Love, Mom.’

 

Together with my mom at Schloss Moyland, the home of the art collection of one of my favorite German artists Joseph Beuys. I write about Beuys in GDRM on page 114.
Together with my mom at Schloss Moyland, the home of the art collection of one of my favorite German artists Joseph Beuys. I write about Beuys in GDRM on page 114.

 

You are invited to view my Dad’s picture in the silver frame in The Tribute to my Dad, including the book excerpt Let Loose the Reins.

In retrospect the words in my mom’s card seem like a premonition. Please check you the article in Wise Women Journal and meet my two rescuers Zigy and Dan who saved me during a hail storm in the Rocky Mountain National Park: Meditation & Motorcycles

I feel very honored that Girls Don’t Ride Motorbikes is a winner of the 2014 Author’s Zone Auto-Biography Book Award.

Please enjoy the picture of our farm and contemplate: What is your happiest childhood memory?

One Powerful Experience – watch Dorit as she shares the most significant turning point in her life.

Girls Don’t Ride Motorbikes healed a reader’s strained relationship to her mom.

What will you risk to truly know who you are?
Happiness