"Whatever befalls the earth befalls the sons

                      of the earth.  Man did not weave the web

                      of life; he is merely a strand in it.  

                      Whatever he does to the web, he does to himself."

                                                                    Chief Seattle

            Life thrives along a country road.  It whistles, chirps,­ snorts, bleats and munches.  Birds fly patterns much like a­ clothesline, from tree branch to fence post.  Cows stare at me in­ slow motion like spectators at a tennis match.  Sheep bolt at the ­slightest noise as if the sky is falling, and run away not ­knowing why or where they're going.  Horses prance up to the ­fence lines curious as to what I'm doing that's different than most humans that pass by in their cars.  Dogs don't care—they­ love chasing me and nipping at my legs.

         What's different to my fellow creatures—is that I've been­ exploring the world astride my bicycle for many years.  Millions­ of pedal strokes have etched memories into my thighs.  My legs­ remember the 16,000 foot passes in the Andes.  They remember the cold, wet winds that tore at my body during summer snowstorms. ­These same legs suffered through endless miles of parched earth­ in the Atacama Desert of Chile, the driest in the world.  Not to ­be outdone, the Australian Outback with 115-20 Fahrenheit temperatures tore moisture out of my legs and suffocated my lungs.  The tundra­ swallowed me with its vastness on the Arctic Circle.  On that­ colossal, thriving continent of Asia, people stared in wonderment ­at my journey.

         The years pass much like campsites that I've left in regions­ around this wondrous green globe.  The kindness shown me in my­ travels by people throughout the world cannot be repaid in a ­thousand lifetimes.  But the one point that always comes home is ­that people care.  They wonder, too.  "Why are you riding that­ bicycle?" they ask.  Few understand my reasons because they can­ only know the "why" of something by participating.  That takes­ effort, which many people in the modern world would rather avoid.

         Riding a bicycle into an adventure is much like walking. ­The philosopher Duncan Littlefair said that when you walk, you ­fall forward, but catch yourself with your other foot.  You fall ­forward into the unknown, into the emerging moment.  That's what­ bicycling allows, a constantly emerging opening opportunity into ­the future.  It's not dramatic—it's poetic, and manifests itself ­in deep spiritual appreciation.  In time, while riding a bicycle, ­the big things mean little, while the basics of life become all ­important—eating, sleeping, quenching thirst, shelter, ­companionship, warmth and protection from the environment.  

         When I was a kid, riding my bicycle along the beach, my­ friends and I raced to inspect a piece of pollution up ahead. It­ might be a Japanese glass fishing ball, or a bottle with a note ­in it.  That's changed now.  On the beaches around the world,­ I've seen colorful flower-like displays of plastics, glass and­ Styrofoam.  But these bouquets will not attract honeybees or ­hummingbirds.  On the pristine waters of Lake Titicaca, the ­highest navigable lake in the world, in Peru, plastic debris ­floats alongside ancient reed boats.  On once mighty cliffs­ overlooking the Mediterranean Sea and along sandy beaches, automobile carcasses lay upon the land like misshapen rocks, ­somehow not lending beauty with their presence.  

         Black oil spots,­ replete with dead birds, speckle the beaches along Australia's ­western coast.  Dolphins wash up with the tide, having died with­ the latest onslaught of toxicity created by humans.  I've pedaled­ into the Himalayas of Nepal where so many trees have been cut­ down that once mighty mountains break in half and slide sideways ­down erosion shoots the size of battle ships.  Riding through­ large cities, I've choked on the fetid air that blackens my lung s­and burns my eyes.  

         In the rain forests of Brazil, we might as ­well begin calling them "fire forests" because so much smoke vomits into the air from the 60,000 square miles that are burned­ annually.  My lungs suffocated on the smoke as I rode through­ their once vibrant beauty.  In Alaska, I watched Bald Eagles, our­ nation's historic symbol, die by the dozens as they dove into the­ black muck of an oil spill created, not by one drunken captain,­ but by an entire American public intoxicated with driving their­V-8 powered cars singularly off to work each day.  Maybe the ­deaths of those eagles signals a harbinger of our own future. ­For certainly we are falling forward into it, but with our eyes ­closed, almost afraid to put our other foot out to save­ ourselves.

         Yet we can.  We must.  We are in a global village where­ every action by any neighbor bares great impact upon all of us. ­At this moment, we are in a crisis.  It's interesting to note that the word "crisis" in Chinese characters means the same thing­ as the word "opportunity."  Literally translated, "crisis" means­ "opportunity riding the dangerous wind."  Because we created­ these problems facing humanity today, we can solve them.  And­ like every person who has shown me kindness in my travels, human beings all over the earth want to help.

         We Americans consider ourselves ethical, but we continue­ selling DDT to countries around the world.  We want to save the­ rain forests, yet we sell South Americans chain saws and tractors­ to cut their forests.  We buy their beef to make more profit off­ our hamburgers.  We enact Clean Air, Clean Water, and­ anti-pollution laws, only to raise our speed limits, buy larger­ sized eight cylinder cars, and create more chemicals that make DDT a minor player on the toxic stage.

         At some point, each of us must take a stand.  Like riding a ­bicycle, we must get back to basics.  We have to understand that­ if we're going to get to the top of that next mountain, we must­ put our whole body, mind, heart and soul into it.  Like a bicycle­ rider, we cannot depend on someone else helping us to the top. ­Each of us must pedal our own bike.  Each of us must make choices ­that will stop the Greenhouse Effect, acid rain, ozone depletion,­ rain forest destruction and chemicalization of our natural world. ­Whether we are a president of a large corporation or a janitor, ­we each have an important interdependence toward one another and­ this planet.  We must take personal action toward the common good­ of our home, this small green biosphere, out in the black void of­ space.

         I continue pedaling forward into the future.  A big mountain ­awaits me, and it's going to be a tough, nearly impossible climb. ­We're all faced with a nearly impossible world ecological ­situation.  Yet with each day, I have an opening opportunity to ­make a difference.  Each of us possesses that same opportunity in­ our own spheres.  The more of us that join in the common goal of ­saving our planet home, the more successful we will be.

         Life thrives along a country road. The sun shines overhead ­while the meadowlarks sharpen their voices for a morning song­fest, and chickadees do loop-d-loops above the tall spring­ grasses.  Sheep munch fresh green shoots as I pedal past, and­ horses prance along the fences wishing they could be as free as ­me.  Chickens search the ground for an unlucky worm.  In the sky,­ a red tailed hawk soars on the rising thermals.  A covey of white­-winged butterflies dances above fields of clover.  It's another­ lovely day for pedaling my bicycle through the natural world.  

     Let's give future generations a chance to enjoy this wonder­, too.