Meditate or Die
My friend Luc told me that biking is the perfect meditation. I sighed and said in my pious enlightened voice “So true.” My imaginary skeptical voice scoffed and said “Oh God here we go again.” He was referring to my history with meditation; I am a dilettante of spiritual traditions.
NYC is Candy Land for spiritual seekers like me. I’ve taken all the yogas: hot, naked, Kundalini, and laughing. An acupuncturist using electrified needles has worked me over more than once. The herbal oil enemas were transcendent, but wrecked my furniture. I took the 12 steps and turned my life over to the care of a doorknob.
It was expensive, but I loved all of it and regret nothing. One of the smartest purchases I made was the $250 I spent on the secret mantra. I have been meditating with it sporadically for 16 years, so I feel well qualified to judge whether or not biking is the perfect meditation.
Let’s compare the two.
| Meditation | Biking |
| Gently close your eyes | DO NOT CLOSE YOUR EYES |
| Sit in a comfortable, upright seated position | Wedge a piece of plastic mounted on a clattering aluminum frame between your ass cheeks |
| Slow your breathing | Gasp for breath |
| Bring your focus to a single point | Only Chinese delivery guys are qualified to do this |
| Play gentle, calming music | Sift crucial sounds from 85dB of city noise |
| Activate your calming prefrontal cortex | Fire up the amygdala. It’s fight or flight time, baby. |
On paper, biking is about as meditative as a Rammstein concert.
But is it?
After crashing into a limo on 6th Avenue and being doored in Chinatown in the first week of my bike commuting experiment, I realized that spacing off while hurtling through a gauntlet of cars is deadly. There are hundreds of harmless things on the streets that can turn perilous in an instant. All my senses must be focused on everything at once and my reactions must be agile enough to evade danger. When my mind is occupied in this way, the chatter nearly stops. I’m forced to be in the moment.
While in this state, the ride is sensuous and I feel everything intensely. Rhythms emerge from the din. I float across dunes of asphalt formed by pounding tires. Sound is hushed when I turn off a busy thoroughfare onto a side street and the kaleidoscopic city turns into a quiet little town. I fly down the avenues with pigeons on a magic carpet. It’s exhilarating. And then the ride ends.
Luc was right. Biking in NYC is the perfect meditation.
