June 3, 2023•315 words
I don't understand how people can gather within a cramped building and pray to God. I haven't been to a house of prayer in years and last time I was there I felt like a caged animal.
When I'm on the top of some mountain overlooking the land I see creation. I see a promise fulfilled. A land of the living. And whether I want to or not I think of my Creator and the possible outcomes and consequences of it all.
And if you're going to be an asshole you're only going to last so long on the road. I can always tell how serious a cyclist is by whether he's a douchebag or not. You can't spend 15 - 20 hours riding a bicycle a week and be heartless. You see things, you understand things and above all you know how finite you are and that's humbling.
Riding at night I'd often see the fresh roadkill before being removed in the morning. You'd see the struggle for life. The unfairness of it all. The injustice.
But you'd also see the life and the beauty of it all. The miracles. The strange things such as wildlife looking both sides before crossing and only proceeding after your wave. The playfulness of foxes that never gets boring. You become aware of an intelligence greater than yourself. A Master Ocherstrator. Everything working is a certain order that cannot be adequately explained but only experienced.
And then you return to a city that knows it all. Knows God. Knows what's right and wrong. Knows how it all began and how it's all going to end. And you don't know a single thing but you feel something, a flame, that cannot be extinguished. And there's a shine in your eye that is not found in the eyes of the pious.
You've seen the Lion roar and you're still alive.