Not My Meme! #1036

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notmymeme unoriginalmeme humor politics ride to live
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The incongruity of the brawny biker with hands up in surrender to the law is jarring, a joke about texting, yet the reality of his compliance is actually demonstrated by his helmet. While it is hilarious, it is unsettling, leaving an aftertaste of disquiet.

I am too close to the veil and see the demons behind it. Too many connections are severed, too much that has tethered me no longer holds me to the world, and I feel adrift from my moorings, transitioning from this world with only my glib hubris protecting me from gluttons slavering to feast on my soul. We are gifted glorious life, yet evil stirs men to such hunger there can be only violence and death coming for all of us. Squandering the gracious gift I was given, building fancy instead of enduring structure, everything is undone in a predatory moment as my confusion is ripped from me with my beating heart, consumed before my eyes, the last thing I see.

Then we will be free of illusions. I cannot comprehend comprehension we will then attain without trucks beeping, papers to delude us, rivers to cross with our goods, or blades to hone. Does the rider raise his arms in surrender? Or is he raising his hands exulting his freedom, celebrating the perfection of the moment as he rides, chained by gravity, blindered by the helmet, burdened by his backpack, yet still free to twist the accelerator and dart forwards, to lean into the lines of force cornering at the limits of the grip of vulcanized rubber on the road, or brake suddenly on a whim and dismount at a meadow to set his boot on the ancient sod, to feel the wispy touch of grass, see flowers unbidden by toiling gardeners loved by butterflies dancing on the air?

This anxiety underlies my understanding today. My circumstances have suddenly become fluid, unknowable. I may become instantly homeless and bereft of everything I own, again. I feel doom coming for me. If I go dark it is not by choice.

Samsara delecta est.

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