He tried to look into the monk's eyes. He couldn't, for the better. The shine of the helmet broke through the brightest, white and heroic like a great warrior's horse. Fighting within himself, trying to ignore religious dogmata and just getting to the basics. The buddhist lessons he's been learning and the locked up Mormon ones that pester.
Confrontation is the real story here, or rather the story forgotten, or even further rather the story failed to be recognized. It's all about confronting his fears and making it all real. He could of made so many other choices. He had that job there that would have grounded his place, he could of taken it easy, instead he had to splurge, to cycle; "live strong".
He's in a better place now, with friends and family. Learning from the past and developing a healthy core from which to grow. The seed close to his heart and the daily water replenishing, constant like a wheel.