Musings of a Motorcycle Mystic
By Diana Rankin, M.A.


I didn’t set out to be a psychic, but then I never thought at age 60 I’d start to ride my own motorcycle. Both have taken me down winding, unknown, labyrinthian roads—roads that perhaps should require a sign that states: “Beware, only the brave should enter here.”

Courage is required for the taking the road less traveled. The journey is fraught with perils that, had we known before we began, we might not have taken. I am not one to stay safely behind. I am a wayfarer, a traveler of the mind’s depths and the earth’s terrain, and for those like me who chose the journey, the rewards are greater than imagined. A passage in my book 23 Days A Celtic Journey reads in reference to a hike up Mt. Snowdon in Wales:

Although the climb is not easy still,

I’ll see the majesty of this land,

Beauty I could not have seen

Lest this climb I did make.”

 It is only in the taking of the road less traveled that we find the truth of ourselves and the beauty of the life of which we are a part.

In my younger years when I made the decision to live my life as a prayer, I hadn’t quite envisioned how that would play out in my everyday life. I certainly never imagined that riding a motorcycle would become my prayer, yet for my first season of riding, every time I got onto that bike I chanted God and my angels are keeping me safe and calm today, God and my angels are keeping me safe and calm today. The chanting has gone by the wayside, but living my life as a prayer hasn’t. Every thought, deed, word spoken or action can be committed in prayer, in love. Certainly riding is.

Motorcycle riding is a dangerous sport. There’s no doubt about it. Riding requires every ounce of my concentration. My life depends on my attentiveness and intuition. Being in the moment is not an option. It is a necessity. Being open to Phillip, my spirit guide, and using my intuition is life saving. Aside from the mechanical operation of a bike, you also must be aware of your surroundings—deer, dogs, merging vehicles, drivers on cell phones, traffic lights, wind draft from trucks—a thousand signals coming at you every moment must be taken in, assimilated, processed and acted upon. I trust my intuition, listening attentively, knowing whether that driver is going to cross the yellow line, forcing me to the edge of the lane; knowing whether that driver is going to pull out in front of me, forcing me to brake hard; whether that driver is going to pass on a two-lane highway into my lane; whether the light is going to change; and which of all those tempting winding, twisting, unknown labyrinthian roads I should take to find the gifts awaiting me.

I took the road to be a psychic reader, accepted the calling, received the training, and dedicated my life to the service of others. The road taken has indeed not been what I expected of my life, and although different it has by no means been less, but instead richly rewarding. Every time I witness the heart of another open to healing because of words that come through me, I know I have taken the right road for me, the one my soul chose at a level deeper than I, in my human self, would have ever dreamed—or dared—to chose.

It is this deeper self that pulls me to Kali, my motorcycle, as often as possible: Kali, the Mother Goddess, symbol of dissolution and destruction, she who destroys ignorance and frees those who strive for union with God by igniting us with the gift of pure consciousness. I feel her power every time I turn left or right at the end of the lane. It matters less which way I turn than that I make the turn.

Perhaps it is the roads not taken we wonder the most about, the ones we passed for the quicker, seemingly easier route. It does our hearts no good to spend time wondering of those roads. There is another road waiting for us. It is up to us to take it and leave behind the safety of the familiar to traverse the ever-changing landscape of the unfamiliar and roads that meander through the highways and byways of life.

Kicking the bike into high gear, I crest a ridge, and I can see forever. I open to amazement and wonder of the vista presented to me. A doe and her two fawn graze in the meadow near the edge of the woods; shadows of tall white pine fall over golden fields of summer wheat; a green-roofed red barn stands beside an old wooden farm house in a stand of oak and ash trees; and the sky is brilliant with the pinks and yellows of today’s sun’s last hurrah. Something shifts within me and the air itself shimmers with anticipation of life’s promise. No longer am I separate from the bike, the road, or life itself. We are Oneness, and the gratitude I feel is astounding. I am the symphony of the heartbeat of life and the pulsating vibration of the pipes that quiver as I back off the engine. I am the rider; I am the bike; I am the deer on the other side of the field and I am the field. I am all that ever was and all that is and all the will be. I am life in all her glory and all her disparagement. I am the psychic reader, I am the teacher, who stands on the vista of the your life to look beyond that which you can only glimpse in this moment in time, and I hold your heart while together we move away the mountains that you may open to the panorama of your own life and begin to see anew.

Perhaps we shall pass on the road, your journey different from mine, each right for us individually, converging into one another’s lives at junctures like riders who wave as we pass one another, one rider going one way, another going the other way, yet sharing for a brief moment in time, a love of the open road and a roaring engine beneath us.

The road less traveled may seem to take us away from the dreams we once had for our lives, when circumstances divert us from the paved highways onto graveled paths. Perhaps it is only after traveling the graveled lane for awhile that we can come to understand the road we chose brought us to a higher calling.

Eventually I’ll return home. We all do. Whether we are coming back from the energy of the reading or the bike ride down country roads, we’ll come again to that road that winds back on ourselves. The road always winds back, taking us where we need to go at the moment we need to be there. All we need do is take the journey.  

Diana Rankin, the author of 23 Days/A Celtic Journey, is a gifted psychic medium, radio personality, internationally known speaker and storyteller, writer and poet, and workshop leader and university instructor. She can be seen the first Friday of every month at Gentle Wind in Columbus where she holds Sacred Circle. Diana can be reached at or by calling 937-593-6500.