“You look at where you’re going and where you are and it never makes sense, but then you look back at where you’ve been and a pattern seems to emerge. And if you project forward from that pattern, then sometimes you can come up with something.”
– Robert M. Pirsig, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance
My husband, Mark, is my cowboy out on the edge of the horizon gazing silently at the great beyond. From the day we met, I was attracted to his big vision. His ability to see through and question the invisible structures through which I viewed the world intrigued me. I trusted him implicitly and respected him as a person independent of the sweet and loving things he did for me. I have told him many times that he is the strongest person I know. I am referring to his willpower and his conviction for the principles and values he holds dear, and standing his ground in the face of adversity.
One of the first books Mark gently “urged” me to read was Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. A very difficult read, and yet aspects of this challenging book have stayed with me over the years. A piece of the foundation upon which our relationship is built is directly traced to this book.
I think it is safe to say that I have been living slightly outside my comfort zone throughout our entire marriage. This is a good thing. We have not followed the typical conventions of marriage, and have had lots of adventures and interesting experiences.
When Mark was diagnosed with progressive multiple sclerosis a few years into our marriage, the groundwork we had already laid held us together during those chaotic and disorienting early years with MS as a new member of our family.
Marrying my dear friend offered me an opportunity to make sure the fragile embryonic roots of attraction and interest had enough nutrients for a thick, strong taproot to establish itself over a lifetime. I took the marriage vows of “for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health,” very seriously. The challenges we have faced have led me back time and time again to these words.
I came across this Robert Pirsig quote when I was looking through my old journals from before we were married. I had hand-written it all in capital letters, which meant it was important to me. Now, as I read it from our current vantage point, mostly because of the challenging inclusion of a prominent neurodegenerative disease, I see we have lived into this quote in ways unforeseeable to us.
Which is the point of the quote in the first place.
