'But what can I name my bike?' I asked.
Obviously, I was concerned with questions of the upmost importance in the first few days of journey planning. Forget the spare parts, or the fact I still didn't even know how to change a tyre. Forget the thousands of kilometres to plan for, or tricky visas to arrange. Forget all that. I wanted a name. I wanted to start working on my relationship with my bike. Somehow it seemed less likely to blow a tyre on me in the middle of a desert if I named it, made it feel appreciated, loved. As if humanising it would somehow guarantee my safety-we're a team, we're in this together-just you and me. So a name was important, a gift, an offering to this metal god before me, a mysterious entity that had the power to destroy my whole journey if it decided to. In my mind I could see a hot desert scene-the bicycle motionless on the dry, dusty ground; me desperately pleading with it- 'Just tell me what's wrong and I'll make it better, pleeeeease'. Shuddering, the tactic of appeasing this powerful beast seemed perfectly logical; a talisman against future bike break-down. So a name was important.
But nothing on the bike lent itself to easy anthropomorphication. The label 'Frontier Trekking' only brought to mind images of formidable sports teachers from my youth- neither woman nor man, indomitable in their steely strength...not someone I really wanted to think of sharing six physically intimate months with.
I shared this dilemma with my friends at the Buddhist monastery where I was staying and... instant enlightenment! A clever Dutch man shouted out 'Sam'. At first I wasn't quite able to match his look of excited glee. Only with his laughing 'Sam and sara, Samsara', did I see the absolute genius of the title.
Samsara is the name of the cycle of existence according to Buddhist philosophy, it is the cycle of suffering...and suffer like hell I'm sure my legs would.
Sam and sara. Samsara and the wheels of life, ready to hit the road...and, who knows, maybe even reach Nirvana.
Obviously, I was concerned with questions of the upmost importance in the first few days of journey planning. Forget the spare parts, or the fact I still didn't even know how to change a tyre. Forget the thousands of kilometres to plan for, or tricky visas to arrange. Forget all that. I wanted a name. I wanted to start working on my relationship with my bike. Somehow it seemed less likely to blow a tyre on me in the middle of a desert if I named it, made it feel appreciated, loved. As if humanising it would somehow guarantee my safety-we're a team, we're in this together-just you and me. So a name was important, a gift, an offering to this metal god before me, a mysterious entity that had the power to destroy my whole journey if it decided to. In my mind I could see a hot desert scene-the bicycle motionless on the dry, dusty ground; me desperately pleading with it- 'Just tell me what's wrong and I'll make it better, pleeeeease'. Shuddering, the tactic of appeasing this powerful beast seemed perfectly logical; a talisman against future bike break-down. So a name was important.
But nothing on the bike lent itself to easy anthropomorphication. The label 'Frontier Trekking' only brought to mind images of formidable sports teachers from my youth- neither woman nor man, indomitable in their steely strength...not someone I really wanted to think of sharing six physically intimate months with.
I shared this dilemma with my friends at the Buddhist monastery where I was staying and... instant enlightenment! A clever Dutch man shouted out 'Sam'. At first I wasn't quite able to match his look of excited glee. Only with his laughing 'Sam and sara, Samsara', did I see the absolute genius of the title.
Samsara is the name of the cycle of existence according to Buddhist philosophy, it is the cycle of suffering...and suffer like hell I'm sure my legs would.
Sam and sara. Samsara and the wheels of life, ready to hit the road...and, who knows, maybe even reach Nirvana.
4 comments:
my dear Sara, I am very honoured to post the first comment on your blog, the Dutch guy was very inspired indeed, Sam is a great name ! So I wish you a great time with Sam and with all the people you will meet on the road!
ZENOOO, I AM SO PROUD TO BE YOUR FRIEND. I HOPE YOU WILL CALL IN TO SEE ME AND BILY IN BOSNIA. WE MISS YOU A LOT. TAKE A GOOD CARE OF SAM.LOVE YOU.
Princess Sara!!!I see Sam very nice in the picture!!! with the flowers, I told you: you're a grat artist. Ahhhh!!! the om mani padme hum leafs!!! lovely. I'm happy Sam was imprinted Kopan with you. I will meet you again, sure.
A very big hug
Yolanda
Brilliant! I myself am a firm proponent of the many benefits of naming inanimate objects. It is my first suggestion in the face of (contemporarily-all-too-frequent and often potentially devestating) computer troubles, and I have seen such nomination work wonders in many otherwise insoluble circumstances.
Best to you and Sam and your mutual Samsara. I will be following your journey with avid interest, mild jealousy, and many warm thoughts and loving prayers.
Elizabeth
Post a Comment