“Come ride beside me, and see how the turning of the wheel reflects the turning of our lives.“
By Roshan Jayasinghe
Riding Beside One Another
Imagine you are riding with me. Two motorcycles hum along the road, the early air cool, the horizon wide. The wheels spin beneath us, yours and mine, steady, alive.
I don’t ride ahead of you as a teacher, nor behind you as a follower. We ride side by side, simply noticing. I will share what I see in my wheel, and perhaps you will see something in yours. Our rides are different, but the circle we depend on is the same.
The Hub: The Silent Core
Every wheel begins at its center. The hub rotates with the wheel, yet it does not wander. Fixed at the axle, it holds steady in its place while the rim spins through space. Without the hub, the spokes scatter, the circle collapses, and the wheel cannot carry weight.
I wonder if we too have something like this. A core that moves with life but does not drift. Some call it soul, some awareness, some simply presence. It is not absent from the turning, it turns with us, yet it holds the center so that everything else may stay in balance.
From this hub stretch the spokes. Mine are many:
• Health — body, rest, nourishment.
• Love — intimacy, tenderness, belonging.
• Family & Community — the networks that remind me I do not ride alone.
• Work & Purpose — where my energy finds direction.
• Creativity — the spark that builds and imagines.
• Spirituality — the unseen thread tying me to mystery.
• Growth & Learning — curiosity that keeps the circle turning.
• Play & Joy — the often-forgotten spoke that keeps balance alive.
When a spoke loosens or breaks, the wheel can still turn, but the weight shifts. The circle bends slightly, and the motion is no longer smooth. I’ve felt that in life too, when one part of me falters and suddenly everything wobbles.
What about your hub? Which spokes stretch from it? Which ones are strong, and which ones might be loosening?
Rim, Road, and Seasons
The rim is where self meets the world. Sometimes covered with tread, sometimes smooth, it is that narrow band of contact where life actually happens.
My wheel rolls over smooth pavement, gravel, sudden potholes, slick patches of rain. I don’t always choose the surface, but I notice how the wheel responds. Sometimes it glides with ease. Sometimes it groans.
It feels like the seasons of life. Spring brings vitality, winter brings stillness, autumn lets go, summer expands. None of these seasons last forever. The wheel keeps turning, carrying each one into the next.
What road is your wheel on now? Is it smooth or uneven, dry or wet?
Wobbles, Signals, and Direction
Every rider knows the wobble, the vibration that comes when balance is off, when a tire is uneven, when alignment is not true. It doesn’t mean the journey is over. It means: listen. Pay attention. Adjust.
Life wobbles in the same way. A setback, a restless night, an unresolved tension, perhaps they are signals, not failures. Invitations to re-align.
And then there is direction. A wheel rolls forward or backward. Sideways, it cannot roll, it can only skid, or be turned by a guiding hand. Yet even that sideways shift can change everything.
Forward feels like growth, motion into the unknown. Backward can feel like retreat, but sometimes retreat is rest. Sideways can be perspective, a glimpse of the road from another angle.
Perhaps your wheel knows these movements too.
My Motorcycle, My Mirror
On my motorcycle, the wheel is not metaphor, it is alive beneath me.
I’ve felt the faint shake at speed, the pull of gravity as I lean into a curve, the steady grip of rubber holding me to the road. I’ve known the skid that humbles me, and the flat tire that forced me to stop and wait.
Each ride teaches me balance is never permanent. Alignment is never final. Both must be tended again and again.
I don’t ride to escape life. I ride to meet it. The wheel beneath me mirrors the wheel within me, both demanding attention, both deserving care.
And you, what is your ride teaching you now, even as you imagine it?
Pausing Together at Dawn
Picture us riding through the night until the horizon begins to glow. We ease the bikes to the roadside. Engines quiet, wheels still warm from the journey.
The sky softens with first light, violet deepening to rose, rose warming into amber. The air is cool, touched with dew, carrying the faint scent of earth and fuel. For a moment, the world itself seems to pause, though we know it is still turning.
I look at my wheel and think of the roads behind and the ones still waiting. You look at yours, perhaps, and do the same. Different journeys, different spokes, yet the same circle, the same eternal turning.
We don’t need to speak. Sitting side by side, we simply notice. That is enough.
The Circle Without End
In a few breaths, the road will call again. The wheels will turn, as they always do. Life will move forward, not in a straight line but in circles, night to day, winter to spring, inhale to exhale, birth to death to birth again.
I don’t say this is the truth. Only that when I ride and when I watch, this is what I notice: the wheel does not stop. It carries us all, endlessly, into continuity.
And as we set off again, side by side, the wheel beneath us reminds us that life itself is motion, fragile, resilient, imperfect, and eternal.
Editor’s Note
This is not instruction, but observation. To notice a wheel is to notice the way nature speaks: in rhythm, in balance, in endless return.
Author’s Note
I write as a rider among riders. What I notice in my wheel may not be yours, but perhaps it opens space for you to notice your own. The wheel, the road, the dawn , they are not answers, only companions.
About the Author
Roshan Jayasinghe writes about consciousness, nature, and the unfolding of human experience. His reflections invite readers to pause, question, and return to the quiet clarity within. He contributes regularly to Morning Telegraph.
