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Not Supported By Your Mobile Device

March 17, 2018

AC3F6120-307A-4853-AADE-7B1373029847There is a viral video of a tiny animal that can lose entire limbs and completely regrow them. It is a salamanderish amphibianesque thing that is so distinctive that it stopped my scrolling.

It’s a biological mulligan-maker that has infinite do-overs. It’s blindly responsive make-up calls make absence disappear. Wholeness is self-perpetuated.

That is not present in my life.

My appendage, my phone, is often absent. Bad signal. Frozen. Inside a steel encrusted basement. Too hot. No Service. Normalcy is never notable, only a change in the normal. Expectations doom everyone to disappointment. Lack of expectations dooms us to dreary depression.

Which is why that viral video went viral. It captures a fascination with the weird, but more, it fulfills the vague expectation that we can be made whole again. Our inadequacies can simply grow into features. Or at least what is missing can be felt,

I am pretty sure I have never been whole, so I am not a salamander. But I know I am not. Twice in two days, traffic adventures eliminated my capacity to be where I should be. Perhaps 10 years ago, I would have considered that a failure.

Like my phone, my infrastructure could not support my desired outcome. My limb remains a stump. So be it. A cyber platform failed, my IPad could not view something I really have to see. My camera went dark just as I was to take an amazing pic. All in a few days.

I did not get angry. I did not beg the Almighty to support my device.

But I am not Zen. The slow, left-leaning/turn-righting car, the mangled political events on the radio, even the impossible clutter on my passenger seat pisses me off, but not the MIA bits of pre-empted expectation.

I must be getting old. Definitionally I am closer to missing everything every day that passes. I do not ask for regenerated limbs. They are gone. And I listen for that transformative video within me that can make sense of (if not restore) the things that are simply not there.

At least in the car I am never alone. At least in the times when the radio is off, I can feel the larger reality of a world that is no clearer when my device is supported.

The truth is that’s because I am supported. Pretty much all the time. I forget that, curse that, push to support myself. But my stumb will never be an arm, even if I watch that video again and feel superior and completely inadequate.

In this silent black that is Lent, this unchanging support is clearer. But the rest of it is not.

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