Tuesday, March 19, 2013

Karma Bombed




     "I'm being Karma Bombed."

     "What do you mean?"

A client stood in my office with an air of despair surrounding her like dust motes.

     "I must have been a slave trader or a mastermind of something diabolical."

     "You?"

The woman is polite to the point of being rude and I'm fairly certain no insects had ever been injured in the process of making her movie.

     "In a past lifetime.  I've got to clean up my past mistakes by having crap line my shoes 
      every day."

Her heavy sigh whispered in my ears long after she left the office.  A few religions embrace Karma, in the same manner Christian's embrace hell, except the torturous experience is meted out while still breathing.

     Long live pain and suffering!

     "There is no punishment for living."

     Come on, payback is a consistent theme in God Talk.

     "No, it's a consistent theme in human talk."

     So Karma is b.s.?

     "It is another form of self abuse.  Carrying injury and pain lifetime to lifetime serves
      no one, not even those who were harmed."    

      But isn't the point to learn something so as not to do it again?

     "Learning comes from experience, not scarring."

     What about paying back a debt, like when you hurt someone and the rest of
     their existence sucks?

     "Life is not about plus and minus, it is about experience.  There are no debts only
      what IS."

     But doesn't that put a big hole in the concept of forgiveness?

     "More human talk."

     What?

     "Healing goes beyond forgiveness.  If there is acceptance of what IS there is healing,
      making forgiveness irrelevant."

      Okay, that's going too far.  I have to forgive someone if they hurt me so I can
      heal.

     "Forgiveness is not what is necessary.  Acceptance and honor of what IS creates motion
      and fluidity."

     Acceptance and honor of pain?

     "And joy and love and laughter.  There is nothing without ALL."

     You're hitting the repeater button again.

Silence.

     Like the lemon green grass in an un-mowed field, experiences dance on a breezy day.  Each long tendril sways against the next soothing old itches, caressing away pain.  When a new crop emerges from Earth it doesn't arise with scars from before, it bursts into life bright green and fresh carrying knowledge of what IS.

    

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