# Beautiful and Abundant  ## Metadata - Author:: [[Bryan Welch]] - Full Title:: Beautiful and Abundant - Category: #books ## Highlights > Chapter one: The “Destination Fixation”In July 2007 I nearly killed myself. I didn’t do it intentionally, but I almost died from a case of poor visualization. That’s right; I almost died for lack of a positive vision of my own immediate future. The motorcycle and its rider can form a beautiful partnership between human and machine. In motion they are graceful, yet their movement defies physical intuition. When a motorcyclist navigates a corner the rider intuitively solves a ridiculously complex equation involving speed, gravity, the road, the tires and a thousand other elements that allow the motorcycle to lean into the curve at an angle that appears–in video or photographs– perfectly impossible. Until a new rider gets used to it, it doesn’t feel much more plausible than it looks. In the mountains, especially, curves are not always symmetrical. You may enter a curve with a gentle arc and discover that the arc gradually becomes smaller. That contour is called a decreasing-circumference curve and it is the bane of the inexperienced rider. It presents a serious problem when you enter the curve too fast and then discover it tightening down on you. It’s the classic rookie error, and I made it. There’s only one way out. Slowing down is not an option. To brake a motorcycle in a high-speed curve is disastrous. You’ll lose traction and drop the machine on its side. So the experienced rider leans deeper into the irrational angle and holds his intent. He concentrates on the curve’s exit and visualizes a successful outcome. He experiences the exhilaration of successfully testing his courage and skill against the limits of physics. I, on the other hand, lost my nerve. Rather than visualizing myself–and the motorcycle–carving our way through the curve and out of our predicament I became trapped in a tentative state of mind in the middle of the turn. I let fear take over. Even though I was following two riders who had successfully negotiated the corner, even though logic dictated that I could follow those other riders, I lost my confidence. I just couldn’t see myself completing that turn at that speed. I didn’t have a clear vision of a good outcome and I started making decisions that led to an undesirable consequence–a wreck. Instinctively, I tried to slow the motorcycle down. In an automobile that would have been precisely the right answer. On the motorcycle it was a bad decision and could have been fatal. The motorcycle and I bounced off a propitious guardrail and went down in the middle ([Location 343](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B004IARU0Q&location=343)) > of the road at about 50 miles per hour. I walked away after ruining a good helmet and about $1,000 worth of excellent protective clothing. Well, “walked” might be inaccurate. I hobbled away. It was about a year before I healed completely. Naturally I did a lot of reflecting about how the accident could have been avoided. The most obvious answer to that question is, of course, “Don’t ride motorcycles.” My wife and a number of friends have brought this simple solution to my attention. Duly noted. But as I considered the lessons I took from the experience– while massaging the deep bruises on my legs, arms and torso–it dawned on me that our species is, in a manner of speaking, right in the middle of a decreasing-circumference curve. There’s a growing worldwide sense that if we don’t make dramatic changes to our lifestyles we may soon begin to feel the painful effects of damage we are doing to our habitat. ([Location 361](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B004IARU0Q&location=361)) # Beautiful and Abundant  ## Metadata - Author:: [[Bryan Welch]] - Full Title:: Beautiful and Abundant - Category: #books ## Highlights > Chapter one: The “Destination Fixation”In July 2007 I nearly killed myself. I didn’t do it intentionally, but I almost died from a case of poor visualization. That’s right; I almost died for lack of a positive vision of my own immediate future. The motorcycle and its rider can form a beautiful partnership between human and machine. In motion they are graceful, yet their movement defies physical intuition. When a motorcyclist navigates a corner the rider intuitively solves a ridiculously complex equation involving speed, gravity, the road, the tires and a thousand other elements that allow the motorcycle to lean into the curve at an angle that appears–in video or photographs– perfectly impossible. Until a new rider gets used to it, it doesn’t feel much more plausible than it looks. In the mountains, especially, curves are not always symmetrical. You may enter a curve with a gentle arc and discover that the arc gradually becomes smaller. That contour is called a decreasing-circumference curve and it is the bane of the inexperienced rider. It presents a serious problem when you enter the curve too fast and then discover it tightening down on you. It’s the classic rookie error, and I made it. There’s only one way out. Slowing down is not an option. To brake a motorcycle in a high-speed curve is disastrous. You’ll lose traction and drop the machine on its side. So the experienced rider leans deeper into the irrational angle and holds his intent. He concentrates on the curve’s exit and visualizes a successful outcome. He experiences the exhilaration of successfully testing his courage and skill against the limits of physics. I, on the other hand, lost my nerve. Rather than visualizing myself–and the motorcycle–carving our way through the curve and out of our predicament I became trapped in a tentative state of mind in the middle of the turn. I let fear take over. Even though I was following two riders who had successfully negotiated the corner, even though logic dictated that I could follow those other riders, I lost my confidence. I just couldn’t see myself completing that turn at that speed. I didn’t have a clear vision of a good outcome and I started making decisions that led to an undesirable consequence–a wreck. Instinctively, I tried to slow the motorcycle down. In an automobile that would have been precisely the right answer. On the motorcycle it was a bad decision and could have been fatal. The motorcycle and I bounced off a propitious guardrail and went down in the middle ([Location 343](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B004IARU0Q&location=343)) > of the road at about 50 miles per hour. I walked away after ruining a good helmet and about $1,000 worth of excellent protective clothing. Well, “walked” might be inaccurate. I hobbled away. It was about a year before I healed completely. Naturally I did a lot of reflecting about how the accident could have been avoided. The most obvious answer to that question is, of course, “Don’t ride motorcycles.” My wife and a number of friends have brought this simple solution to my attention. Duly noted. But as I considered the lessons I took from the experience– while massaging the deep bruises on my legs, arms and torso–it dawned on me that our species is, in a manner of speaking, right in the middle of a decreasing-circumference curve. There’s a growing worldwide sense that if we don’t make dramatic changes to our lifestyles we may soon begin to feel the painful effects of damage we are doing to our habitat. ([Location 361](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B004IARU0Q&location=361))