God Depends On Me For Autonomy While I Depend On God For Being-Here-Now


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333 magnify

Start Of Bicycle Trip Of Quebec, Gaspe Peninsula, New Brunswick, Prince Edward Island, Nova Scotia, Cape Breton Island, And Back To Michigan

Michigan

June 23, 1982

Hello journal! Here we are again, together. This time we are returning to the Canadian Maritime Provinces to complete my aborted 1977 bicycle trip, and we’ve been on the road for a couple of days already. We spent last night at Mike and Val’s place in Hemlock and now we’re holding up about sixty miles east of Port Huron, in this old abandoned schoolhouse. We could be farther down the highway, but we’re playing it smart. I am not going to repeat my last bicycle trip where my knees gave out because I was too eager. A little conditioning in the beginning will get me farther, even if it’s slow going. Since this is really not the beginning, without further ado, let’s start over.

May 28, 1982

The purpose of this pre-mature journal entry is to fill in some of the space between my last journal and this one. After my last road trip, I was overcome with a need to get down on paper some thoughts I had been entertaining. I wanted to write about the growth I had experienced over the last twelve years, so I started to write a play. The play however was postponed when it turned into a couple of other writing projects instead. Now, three papers on freedom wiser, and two years older, I feel closer to God than ever before.

Most of my conclusions, however, are found in my third paper. In essence, God depends on me, and the rest of existence, for autonomy while I, and the rest of existence, depend on G for our creation. And further, God becomes self-conscious in the human being; therefore, humans represent the freest expression of God’s autonomy. My capacity to discriminate is an explicit form of God’s freedom. On this bicycle trip I will let these newly acquired insights, along with the sights, sounds, smells, and textures of my road trip, sink deep into my conscious awareness.

June 26

Hello again journal. In Sarnia, Canada, I caught the train to Quebec. The baggage transfer on the train was a hassle and the train ride wasn’t all that pleasant, either. I had a roof over my head, but I almost froze during the night. When I arrived in Riviere du Loup at 2:30 AM, I waited in the train station until daylight, and then headed out. The good news was that I was bicycling up the St. Lawrence Seaway and there were many youth hostels along that route. At $5.50 a night, and a warm bed to sleep in, I had no reason to complain.

I’m sitting in the Rimouski hostel right now, writing in my journal. It’s been hard to talk with people. Very little English gets spoken in Quebec. I wish I could speak French. I would like to add, however, that the general overall attitude of the people I am experiencing is much less suffocating than when I was here four years ago; back then eye piercing maliciousness on the faces of the people was the norm. I suspect the two failed referendums on Quebec’s independence had something to do with softening up those expressions. Now I’m seeing more “hi, how are you” greetings, at least in the eyes anyway, and that means a lot.

I started this day out in the rain, and then it turned sunny. I was pushed forward by the wind–a rare occurrence. I’m sure I’ll experience some depression before it’s all over, but for now everything is just fine. Maybe on this trip I will have more good days than bad. Did I just say that? Naw, I must be dreaming!

June 28

It’s 6 AM and I’m sitting in the kitchen of the youth hostel in Matane, drinking coffee. Out the window is a beautiful view of the St. Lawrence Seaway. I think the clouds will burn off as the day progresses, but right now it’s pretty overcast. So far the bicycling has been excellent– sun, wind at my back, and beautiful scenery. I do not have a routine yet. The next youth hostel is 90 miles down the highway. Maybe my routine is about to begin.

June 29

Today it’s been overcast and wet—just a little sunshine. With a 15 mile per hour wind in my face it soon became
apparent that I would not make it to the youth hostel, so I set up camp alongside some power lines. I have a nice view of the
St. Lawrence Seaway, but the black flies are bad, so here I sit in my tent, unable to move, and looking forward to turning in early.

When I biked out of Matane, as I crossed the river, I counted 15 fly fishermen. It was the last day of the town’s shrimp festival. Last night, I happened upon a group of musicians playing French music in the town center. I think I’m really getting a feel for that music. I like it. Oh, and I don’t want to forget to mention the flower gardens of Grand Metis. They were absolutely gorgeous. Rows upon rows of yellows, reds, blues, you name it, the most beautiful flowers I have ever seen. To bad the weather didn’t cooperate. Also, in Mont St. Pierre a huge cliff overlooking the water provided a platform for hand glider take offs. I watched from a distance as a couple went airborne. The town itself was nestled in a cove between two large mountains—very beautiful.

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