Countdown to Karma
Mother never repaid an ill, rude, or cruel deed aimed at her with anything but charity. Not to say she didn’t shed a few tears when they happened, but she never raged and plotted revenge. After the initial pain subsided she would pray for the person’s Highest Good and move on, tucking away the lesson in a journal or the outhouse. Me, on the other hand, in my oh so much younger days, was a bit of a lose cannon and would sit in a pot of rage days, for stirring up ways to cleverly and deceptively ‘off their heads.’ Maturity eventually set in, but I have to say I never got to that calm grace my mother had in those dreadful situations until a few years ago. Ok, the other day. Mother was a firm believer of Karma. She never called it that mind you; “Law of the Harvest”, “What goes around comes around”, “Putting it all in God’s hands.” Those were her terms. It was Karma non the less. That quiet current of clever energy that neatly, yet powerfully, throws every bit of crap a