Karma – Trifecta Challenge

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Karma.

Fickle mistress.

Rewarding good deeds

and laying in wait to punish evil.

Just desserts served with panache

and a side of impartiality.

A vibration of kismet.

You found me sooner than anticipated.

good_karma_sign

~~

Written for the weekend Trifecta Challenge: On to the quick and dirty Trifextra.  This weekend we are assuming that many of you are slogging your way through leftovers and family bickering (or is that just us?) and thus we’re going way easy on you.  This weekend we are asking for a 33-word free write.  Give us whatever you’ve got. – See more at: http://www.trifectawritingchallenge.com/#sthash.p013Fbnp.dpuf

(image credit: getinvolved.ca)

Ashes to ashes – Trifecta Challenge

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After surviving ten years of an emasculating marriage, Jake had reached his breaking point.  His friends made many jokes at his expense and he was tired of being bullied by everyone.

She would be expecting an extravagant anniversary present so, after extensive research, he booked a trip to the Babuyan Islands so she could bask in the raw beauty of nature.  As anticipated, she complained about the coach seats on the plane.  She complained about the oppressive humidity.  She profusely disapproved.

Her obituary was poignant and sad.  Who knew she would have met her fate in that volcanic chasm?

babuyan

(image credit: lastwildplace.ph)

Written for the Trifecta Challenge – This week we are giving you a page from the Oxford English Dictionary.  The ninety-ninth page, to be exact.  (Click to enlarge.)  From this page, you can choose any word, any definition, to use in your post.  (Please type your chosen word in bold, so we know.)  And instead of our typical 33-333 word limit, we are asking for 99 words exactly. – See more at: http://www.trifectawritingchallenge.com/#sthash.8OvMgQVR.dpuf

Karma

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There are several familiar expressions with which humankind uses to describe the same outcome. Whether it be “Live by the sword, die by the sword” or “what goes around, comes around”, they converge on each other and intertwine to form a common thread that we all weave into our lives.  That common thread is called Karma.

Karma is part of the law of cause and effect, and it chooses how and when to seek its retribution.  It may come back to haunt you in a swift and effective charge, it may linger in the shadows and creep in when you least expect it, or, if you believe in reincarnation, it may wreak its havoc in your next go around.  Regardless of when it rears its ugly head, it will seek you out and serve up a dish of revenge that is best served cold.   It is calculating and it is manipulative, but those adjectives may best describe the actions that led Karma to finding you in the first place.

Karma is not a superstitious hypothesis.  I believe we each create our own luck, be it good or bad luck.  Karma is energy, a life force that gets its momentum from the vibrations we put out into the world.   And it is not just about negative energy and paybacks.  Karma works just as well on the opposite side of the energy spectrum.  Good deeds done selflessly tend to have Karma smile favorably upon us as opposed to hunting us like wounded prey and going in for the kill.

The Golden Rule, or as I discovered another name, The Ethic of Reciprocity (which sounds way more fun) -is this – do unto others, as you would have done to you – such a simple string of words with such a profound outcome.  You’ve seen it in action on the smallest scale when you give a smile to a stranger and they immediately smile back.   Positive Karma results from positive states of mind and positive actions.

As this is the year that I vowed to keep a positive attitude, I am putting my good karmic vibrations into the atmosphere.  Maybe, if we all focus enough positivity into the atmosphere, a small trickle of good energy can transform itself, one person at a time, and gain enough momentum to become a waterfall.

 

(image credit: world-beautifulwallpapers.blogspot.com)

Childhood revisited – The memory that won’t go away

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This is not the first memory I have from my childhood, but this is one that stands out in my mind and helped to define the relationship with my brother that would continue for years to come.

I still recall the most minor of details that day and I was all of five years old.  Oakville was a seemingly small city in 1974 and the streets were safe enough that my brother and I could walk ourselves to and from school without parental supervision.  The day was crisp, the sun filtered through the autumn leaves and reflected jagged pieces of warm light onto the lawns and sidewalks.  School had been fun that day and I was anxious to regale my brother with tales of arts and crafts and have him dispel the myth of why some kids eat paste.  He was nine – he would surely be more privy to that information than a mere five year old girl.

The two of us began our journey home, and as I skipped along beside him I expounded about my day.  I had become quite ensconced in my own story and somewhere along the way I realized he was not beside me any longer.  I slowed my pace and heard him behind me, fiddling with a wrapper on what I had assumed was a stashed piece of candy from my beloved Shoreline Variety Store.  The sound of the wrapper immediately piqued my attention and halted the story I had become so engrossed in telling.

oh henry

I turned to find him holding out a piece of candy and remember thinking how generous it was for him to share.  It was surely a treat that would have been frowned on by my parents, but that made it all the more intriguing.  I gladly took the candy, and as I began to bring the treasured morsel to my lips, he stood stoic, waiting for me to take the first bite.

As my teeth sank into the delicacy that my brother had so graciously shared, his laughter pierced my eardrums before the pungent flavor assaulted my taste-buds.  His gales of laughter floated through the autumn winds as I tried frantically to remove every shrapnel of excrement from my mouth.  My brother had fed me a piece of dog shit.

I don’t think even Forrest Gump would have outrun me on the way home that day.  I sprinted past the crossing guard and could barely see the sidewalk for the tears.  I could hear my brother panting behind me, trying to catch up to me before I was able to cross the threshold of our home and explain to my mother how my taste-buds had been violated by a heinous act of terrorism.  I’m sure my words were not nearly as eloquent as I would like to think they were, but she got the point, and he got the spanking.

This simple act of cruelty led to years of pranks and retribution, usually always at my expense.  Not so many years later, because I seemingly still adored him, emulated him and worshipped the ground he walked on, I was easily swayed into helping knock a beehive from the side of our garage with a hockey stick.  Forrest Gump, again, would have been proud of my speed and agility getting to the old station wagon.  Long story short, there was a lot of baking soda required that afternoon to cover all of the puncture wounds those bees left in my body.

Thankfully my days of naiveté are over and I am perpetually careful around my dear brother.  And he may not know this, unless he reads this post, but I am still plotting my revenge!!

Written in response to the Daily Post Challenge.

The Christmas spirit is alive and well……at least in my house

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I generally live every day, 365 days a year, with the Christmas spirit, and being a big believer in Karma, that tends to bode well for me.  I’m always positive and trying to infect others with that same energy.  I’ve been asked by several people why I”m always smiling or laughing.  I will usually quote Will Ferrell from the movie ‘Elf’ and simply say, “I like smiling, it’s my favorite”.

This morning my smile was weakened a little by the blatant display of Grinch-like behavior from two strangers who have obviously not been dusted with the shimmering particles of the Christmas spirit.   A local TV station has been running a contest for the last four weeks.  Each week, on Tuesdays and Thursdays, they put a jumbled word on the screen and viewers must unscramble the letters and send both words in for a chance to win the weekly prize of $10,000.00.

I woke up late Thursday morning, and mistakenly forgot to set the PVR, so I missed the scrambled letters.  Apparently I was not the only one as the mad flurry of Facebook posts echoed my lament.  There were a few comments about missing the Tuesday letters, so I thought I would harness the Christmas spirit and send the word from Tuesday and ask them for the Thursday letters in return.  I sent that word to both women this morning………and got no response from either of them.  Merry Christmas you selfish women.  I don’t think Karma will be picking either of your names from the hat on Monday!!

karma

Thankfully, the news station replays its morning show online and I was able to find the segment of the show that I missed.  And to ensure that those two women’s names get lost in a bigger pile of entries, I put the link to that portion of the morning show on the Twitter feed so more people could enter.  I even went so far as to up the Karmic ante and tweeted that if my name is drawn, I want them to draw a second name so we can split the prize and share that Christmas gift. (which was my plan, regardless of my spirit being temporarily derailed by these two women)

Wouldn’t it be terribly ironic if I did win and the other name that was pulled was one of those two women to whom I gave those scrambled letters??  Their complete lack of decency should negate their entry into the contest.  Wish me luck, and while I put an extra pin in the voodoo dolls of those Christmas-spiritless women who really don’t deserve to have their names in the pot in the first place, let Lady Luck roll her magical dice!!

Okay, so that is  not how I’m ending this post – if one of their names is pulled from that Karmic hat, it just solidifies the fact that they were meant to win one way or another.  Regardless of the outcome, I know I did a good deed today and perhaps that feeling is worth the $5,000.00 that could have been.

What would you have done if you were in the same Karmic boat?

There’s no place like home

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If you read my post yesterday, you’ll know I awoke out of a comfortable sleep and repeated the phrase “white rabbit” three times.  It’s an old family tradition meant to bring luck for the remaining days of that month.  I do believe we create our own luck to some extent, but there are definitely external forces, with perhaps a bit of Karma thrown in for good measure, that help propel us into those moments of good fortune.

I haven’t checked my astral projections to know if my stars were aligned yesterday (I don’t really do that), but the day was full of positive energy and the God’s seem to smile favorably upon me in many ways.  Probably the most exciting news was the possibility of writing a page for a local magazine that has a feature written by selected guest writers about the area that I am proud to call my home.  The decision will be made after the editor has decided that my writing prowess cuts the mustard, but I’m hopeful that I will pass the test.

Writing, to me, is about combining things I truly believe in with an honesty that the reader can not only relate to, but can find charm and warmth in the words that I feel strongly about putting on a page.  Writing is about bringing life and imagery to the forefront of the reader’s mind and helping them experience the same passion I feel for the subject about which I so diligently write and rewrite.

I know another blogger (and successful author) who is making the pilgrimage back to a place she truly calls home.  It is her muse and her refuge from a world that she blended into, but never could truly call her home.  I know that she will find solace in enveloping herself in the place she can genuinely feel like she is herself and that natural landscape will welcome her back with open arms.  There is no place like home.

My desire is that the panorama of my daily life and the poetry of my words will collide to create a spectral portrait and do justice to the beauty in which I am fortunate enough to spend my days and nights.  It is the song of my soul.  It is my true home.

With my writing cap on and my fingers poised above the keyboard, I will click my ruby slippers three times and forge into a tale of love for a landscape that has embedded itself into the cells of my being.  Home is where the heart is, and my heart only beats here.

Open mouth, insert foot

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I will apologize in advance, but this post may encompass a few previous ideas and come to one volcano-like explosion at the end.  It’s time to get personal.

It amazes me how some people on this revolving earth can manage to walk and chew gum at the same time.  The cavernous space where a brain should reside is so glaringly empty, that common sense just bounces from side to side, but is never allowed the freedom to exist or be put into practice.  The filter, that is most commonly used by people who actually utilize the firing neurons in their brain, will inevitably catch the phrases that tumble into our mouths before they have a chance to cross our lips.  That filter can save us from grave embarrassment and potential retribution.  Some people are not lucky or smart enough to know that the filter is available to them, or to be able to use it effectively.

Before we speak, we should ask ourselves certain questions.  1) Is it true?  2) Is it necessary? 3) Is it inspiring?  4) Will it improve upon silence by talking about it?    If not, keep your mouth shut and keep it to yourself.

I got a phone call from my brother tonight on his way home from the golf tournament he participated in today.  He was paired with a local couple in the same business that my dad worked in for decades.  Upon learning of my brother’s family name, the man made a comment so disparaging to my deceased father’s character that my brother was dumbfounded.  That one inane comment continued circulating to the forefront of his thoughts and plagued what should have been an enjoyable afternoon.

Foot in mouth disease is not just a myth.  It exists and is apparently thriving, preying on unsuspecting windbags who do nothing more than speak to hear the sound of their own melodic idiocy.  The venom that is currently coursing through my veins is making my vicious thoughts turn into a verbal barrage of words that my poor dog has never heard before.

If you have been following my blog, you know that I am a firm believer in Karma.  As much as I would like to hunt down this moron and let my vocabulary loose on him with the fury of a thousand hurricanes, I will heed my dad’s sage advice and rise above.   I revert, again, to one of my previous posts and say – you can’t cure stupid.

I can only hope that this sack of leaking idioms will have the light-bulb moment when he realizes what a gross misjudgment he made by opening his mouth in the first place.  And I can only hope he has very expensive taste in shoes, because he just jammed both of those Sperry Top-Siders in at the same time.  Bon appetit, asshole!