A Moment of Clarity

In that moment everything suddenly is very clear. Crystal clear. And the minutest of details is instantly apparent, as if it were highlighted, italicized and underlined, twice. The smallest speck of dirt in front of me looks like the Rock of Gibraltar. I am completely aware of what is happening to me and what is happening in my surroundings. Even behind me, though I don’t turn to see. I can very nearly hear people thinking. Time seems to slow down so much that applying the phrase 'slows down to a crawl' to it wouldn't do it much justice. It feels like I am the only one doing anything with everything around me frozen still. It’s that moment of clarity when I know what just happened, what is happening and what is going to happen. It’s that moment of instant realization of exactly why whatever is going to happen is going to happen. It’s a moment when the body doesn't receive commands from the brain. Rather the brain and body work as one.

And I am mighty fortunate that I get this moment of clarity because once it passes, time suddenly accelerates back to its regular speed and then I won't have much of it left to brace myself before my flight culminates and I make intimate contact with the road. Face first. It all started when I slammed my brakes to avoid that jay-walker who had happily jumped across the median on the road and landed right before my front wheel. And off I went on my private flight over public tarmac. But after the injuries heal, the bike is fixed and I am back on it, everything about that incident automatically gets put into the 'Forget' folder. Everything, except that moment of clarity.