gets a bad rap in the history of religion and philosophy. Remember that shark in Finding Nemo who was trying to convince himself that “fish are friends not food”? That’s kind of where we have been in relation to our bodies for much of Western history—trying to distance ourselves from our animal nature–teeth clenched, bead of sweat on the brow.    

Philosophy and religion have demonstrated a fairly consistent disapproval, or at best tolerance, of bodily pleasure. Plato’s Pheado is a great example of this. Socrates happily accepts his death so he can be rid of his bothersome, distracting physical body. And we are taught that our earthly task is to disassociate ourselves from our meddlesome bodies as much as possible–to starve it of pleasure–so that our minds are free to pursue knowledge. It’s not hard to hear echoes of this asceticism in the history of religion and philosophy.
Part of the problem is that philosophy and religion tend to attract certain types of people. Part of the problem is that strict regulations of the body were probably necessary to form and maintain social institutions and order.  

Whatever the reason, it seems that we are we are now in the process of lifting some of these taboos. And this is mostly for the good. 

Whatever else we may or may not be, we are animals. Our animal bodies are good. Animal pleasure is good. What the Stoics understood, however, is that to maximize pleasure you need to be careful with it—to exercise some control without demonizing it. Maximizing your long-term pleasure means making some short-term sacrifices. This is an enlightened hedonism, a healthy relationship to pleasure.

What’s the connection to motorcycles, you ask? My particular hedonism this week has not been very enlightened.   And this particular body seems to be getting bigger by the day. Turns out that riding motorcycles burns lots of calories, just not your own. I am also shocked to learn that beer and pizza do a lot more harm when you haven’t seen the inside of a gym in a week. Looks like there’s a reason that the “small” in a Harley store fits a high school nose tackle.

And I don’t think the 250 miles on the docket for today–Saratoga, WY to Grand Junction, CO—are going to do a damn thing to solve this problem. 

Anyway. See you there.