Wheelies

Recently, a neighbor kid was riding his bike around our block. He's new to bike-riding, but has already found that it's more than a way to get from Point A to Point B. In short, he was doing tricks. He wanted me to notice. Apparently, I hadn't noticed enough, or voiced enough appreciation, so he directed me to pay attention. I watched. Saw nothing. He looked, exasperated with me. "I'm doing wheelies!" he explained. "Wheelies?" I said. "Yeah," he said. "Watch." So, I did. Now, on second glance, I noticed that in the course of his ride, in response to some violent exertion in his wrists and shoulders, the bike seemed to hiccup a bit before rolling as before. I'm not even sure I can faithfully say that the front wheel left the ground, which to me would be a basic description of a "wheelie." But maybe that didn't matter. What mattered to this kid was that he was doing wheelies. Now, there might come the time to say "not enough" or "get better" or to inspire bigger wheelies from this kid and his bike. But what came to me was that, in his mind, he was already enjoying fantastic, mind-blowing wheelies. He was already doing it. What if you lived like that--seemingly ordinary to the outside observer, but in your mind, in your heart, in your spirit, living a life of mindblowing wheelies? Tricks the civilized world had never yet seen? What if you carried that in your step, through your days? How would things change? Let me know. As for me, I'm going out to practice some wheelies.