What Goes Around

This morning, about an hour ago, I stumbled across something on Facebook that made me pause and think. Yes, I have to pause to think. It's early, for crying out loud, you're lucky I am thinking at all before five in the morning.

Regardless, it was a simple enough thing. A picture that said: Karma - I Believe What Goes Around Comes Around.

This, in and of itself, is fine. There is nothing new about this saying. It didn't bowl me over or knock me on my arse. I wasn't struck dumb by how unique or refreshing this quote was. No, I was distracted by what the person who posted it posted along with it. In all her passionate glory, she said how she couldn't wait until the bad things started happening to all the assholes who have done her wrong.

Well, let's just take a moment to think about that. (Yes, another pause. It deserves it.)

Karma - and the saying of 'what goes around comes around' - always meant, to me, that good things will happen to good people and bad things to bad people. Now, with that in mind, you might understand why I stopped to ponder over what this woman wrote.

Here's where I stand. If you take joy from another person's suffering, whether that be someone who hurt you or not, it sort of implies you aren't exactly going to be fairing well on the old Karmatic scale yourself. The whole purpose of Karma, and this saying, is to reassure you that people will either be blessed or punished depending on their actions - that you don't have to concern yourself with 'getting someone back' for the harm they have caused you, that the order of the world will pay them in return for what they have done. Not to mention, Karma kind of promotes the idea of actually forgiving, forgetting, doing nice and pleasant and lovely things for people, because you want the good Karma to come back to you.

Or maybe I am way off base?

It seems to me there are a lot of people out there (there being the treacherous terrains of the world) who are comforted by the pain of others. This is, if nothing else, counter-productive and goes completely against the whole 'Karma is a bitch' attitude, because getting pleasure from another person's pain, even if that person keyed your car or slept with your ex-boyfriend, is breeding negative thoughts, feelings and contributing to your own personal bad karma.

There's another saying that I think goes hand-in-hand with this one. Rise above it. Now, this doesn't mean you ride about on a horse saying pompous things to other people, looking down your nose at them. It doesn't mean you post celebratory statuses on Facebook and Twitter when someone who hurt you 'gets theirs'. And it certainly doesn't mean you sit back and wait patiently for the day when all your enemies are put in their place. No. In fact, that's actually the opposite of rising above it. That's stooping below it, and, if I may be so blunt, acting like a complete fool.

"Oh, but Tyson, I've seen you go toe-to-toe with a vast array of people who have annoyed, irked, irritated, and pissed you off. Haven't you ever wished ill-will on someone who has hurt you?"

Of course I have! I'm no saint. My halo is not only tarnished and crooked, but has been misplaced from time-to-time. We all have found a smug bit of satisfaction in knowing someone who tore us down, damaged our self-esteem and rallied their troops against us has slipped, fallen, skinned their knee or gotten egg on their face. But those days are my past.

Not only do I spend my time trying to understand the actions of people, but I work to let go of the anger and frustration I myself have. Why cling to it? In the end, these feelings of wanting someone to suffer as we ourselves have suffered are completely toxic. And backwards. And derailing. Could you imagine what this world would look like if we all forgave our petty past grudges and let go of our pain?

Me neither!

On top of all of this, I've done some bad things. I suppose that comes as a terrible shock to you, but I have. Things I am ashamed of. Things I wish I could take back. Things that used to keep me up at night. So, I figure I have a bit of bad karma coming my way. And when that bad karma strikes, I don't want people dancing around and eating cake in celebration. No need for someone to send me a 'you got yours' card in the mail. Because I am perfectly aware of what I have done wrong and recognize that amends must be made. Gloating, laughing people need not rub it in.

You see, our paths are long. It goes without saying that we are going to mess up along the way. I am not your judge and jury. I am my own. Which is why I am focused on the bad things I've done. Not the bad things that others have done.

All I have to say is, leave it to karma to sort out. It isn't until we start wishing the best for others that others will start wishing the best for us.

With Unbearable Sadness, I Say Goodbye

First, I will start with the truth. It's been a long, haphazard haul for me and Kobo.

We came together about a year ago. At first, it was rocky. I didn't want to recognize the importance of him. He was too stubborn to accommodate all my needs, even though he reassured me he could. There were lost documents, synching issues, formatting errors and, worst of all, files he simply wouldn't read. Not to mention the communication issues. How was I supposed to understand the difference between 'sleep mode' and 'power off'?

But then we hit our stride. I changed for him. I only used RTF and EPub, made sure to charge him often, and told him on a daily basis how much easier he made my life. And, in return, he didn't fail me. He made my life easier. You see, he opened my eyes to the possibility that BETA reading didn't have to be a chore. We found a groove.

Me - sitting on the exercise bike peddling away.
Him - perched on the bike, allowing me to read as I worked.

Unfortunately, like so many great relationships in life, ours has come to an end. Too soon, really. The hardest part is that this is all out of my control now. You see, Kobo wasn't built to withstand me. I play rough. I'm clumsy. Accidents happen.

Sadly, in this day and age, there is no room for oopsies with technology.

Up until this point it has been unbearable to talk about, but today I found the courage to come here and tell you my story. And to pass along the news that Kobo is no more. We spent one last wonderful night together, cuddled up in bed, him pleasing me, and me taking what he had to offer. It got late. Maybe I was too selfish. Exhaustion crept in. My eyes closed. Safety precautions were not taken. And the light went out.

The next morning, tragedy struck.

Like the careless baboon I am, I rolled over and crawled out of bed. This is where it gets hard to recount. In the process my Neanderthalic knee crunched down on Kobo...the sound was horrifying. A gritting, crunchy, snappy sound that will be ingrained on my brain forever. Instantly, I knew.

Kobo was dead.

There were tears - mine. But I assure you, Kobo did not suffer. He was gone too quick. It was painless. I've kept his lifeless body on my night stand in hopes he'd come back to me, but I fear there are no miracles to bring him back. It is times like these that I am hit with the cold, hard reality that there really is no magic in this world. What comprises the stories I weave and read does not really exist at all.

It is time to say goodbye, though they are so hard to utter. But the healing must start.

Please do not think I will be rushing out to try and replace Kobo. At this point, I don't think he can be. No, he meant too much to me. We fought through so much together. The ups and downs will be remembered fondly. And he will be missed.

Here is where I plead you to take care of your loved one. Always remember, safety first. I would hate for something like this to happen to you.

 

Set Your Heart To It

The other day, I wrote a simple sentence to someone: I can do anything I set my heart to.

It wasn't until he pointed out that the saying is actually "I can do anything I set my mind to" that I realized my error.

But, after a couple moments of pondering it, I decided it wasn't an error at all. Setting my mind to something won't ensure results, because if my heart isn't in it, the drive isn't there. There will be no passion for it. And passion is something we all need, whether it be for art, music, food, movies or anything else that evokes a sense of excitement and enjoyment.

These days we seem to be slaves to our heads. We do all this wondering and analysing. And some of us, a lot of us, completely neglect our hearts. It's all about pro and con lists. Over thinking. Trying to find the point of the matter.

Sometimes the matter has no point. Sometimes it simply is.

Once upon a time, I told a friend to listen to his heart, that it will guide him. Yes, I know Jiminy Cricket told us to always let our conscience be our guide, but in the the original story he was crushed to death. I think I've proven my point there with that random piece of nonsense. Okay, here's the thing, I know some of us have bad hearts, but if you aren't completely evil, your heart will tell you the right thing to do. I mean, it's in there, beating, keeping you alive, pumping blood through your veins.

I tend to think we owe it at least a little attention.

Not too long ago, I decided to try to move through life with love. I set my heart to it. And life has been very different.

You see, it's hard hurting people. It tears your soul apart a little bit at a time. Tiny rips appear in our fabric of being. And over time these holes and slits grow, making it impossible to function. Making existing seem so bloody hard. We hurt each other for all sorts of reasons and it damages ourselves and each other, but it's important to recognize and understand the motivations behind the vindictiveness we harbour and the intentional harm we cause. It often comes from a lack of knowing where we belong and of fear and unhappiness. It's hard to fault people when their misery makes looking at their own reflection impossible.

Lately, I've enjoyed looking in the mirror. Not in the 'look how big my head is' egotistical way. It isn't about a pretty face or rockin' body. It's about heart. And love. I'm not moving through life trying to teach people a lesson any more. I'm not here out of spite, anger, or sadness. I'm not sticking around to damn the man or show anyone I can't be beaten down. I'm here for love. To spread it around.

There are hard days. People can be so infuriating. But if I keep moving forward. If I keep moving with love. Everything will be okay. I've set my heart to it.

And I can do anything I set my heart to.

It's Camp Time!

This month I am looking forward to doing some great writing. Okay, okay. I'm looking forward to writing. The greatness will be determined by what it is I actually write about. Apparently, and I didn't know this, June is writing camp month over on the National Novel Writing Site. And since you don't want to hear all the gory details from me, I'll send you over here where you can read all about it yourself.

Now, how did I get suckered into going to writing camp?

Noelle.

You all remember Noelle from when I took a trip down to Georgia and a plethora of other occasions. She's my sister, my friend, my companion. She's a pain in the ass, really. See, she gets awfully competitive. And, I know, in my heart of hearts, her innocent "Are you going to write with me for June?" is actually, "I'm going to kick your ass and finish my fifty thousand words before you, Tyson!" And yes, she does use that type of language. I'm just as appalled as you are.

So, what do I have to do...well, at this moment, come up with a freakin' idea!

And then I have to catch up, because, by my count, I am behind by four days.

I'm counting today as a write off because I feel like someone hit me in the head with a bag full of beans. I don't know if that's ever happened, certainly not to me. And I don't know what it would feel like, but death got in a semi-truck and ran me over. Then reversed.

Well, that's what I'm up to. Are you doing NANOJUNOCAMPO? (I made that up, but basically I'm asking if you will be attending camp with me.)

Monday From Hell

Yesterday, I was so off from centre it wasn't even funny. It all started because I woke up late. I hate waking up late. Not only does it derail my whole day, but it threatens to derail my whole week. The thing is, I don't have an excuse as to why I woke up late. Maybe it was all the long weekend shenanigans and tomfoolery. (I'm a lucky girl and had Friday off)

Anyway, back to the Monday I need not a repeat of. My body naturally roused me at three thirty. When I saw this, I got excited. It meant I still had like forty minutes to sleep! 

"FORTY MINUTES," my body and mind said. "Splendiferous!" 

So, like the normal girl I am, I toddled back to sleep, only to awaken eighty minutes later with the gut feeling of 'something isn't right in the world'. It's because the sky wasn't dark like I'm used to seeing. It was light. Meaning I was late. Ugh. How annoying. Like the diligent, reliable, hard working person I am, I ran around my house, a la chicken with its head cut off, in a desperate attempt to ready myself for work in five minutes. And I did it. 

Even if I didn't wash my face or put on deodorant, I still made it out of the house in record time. (Yes, I did brush my teeth).

Except, I had to go back because I forgot my friend's birthday present. And I forgot to walk my dog. 

I know, I know. How the heck can someone forget to walk their dog? Well, Oliver is lazy. He's actually the epitome of lethargic except for about half an hour a day in which he insists on running around like a maniac. In my defence, he didn't even move from the bed. Clearly I wasn't the only one participating in Snooze-Fest 2012. So, maybe I forgot about him altogether as I kid my madcap dance around the house. 

The point is, I went back. And I swear he groaned when I made him get out from under the warm blankets. Yes, he sleeps under them. He even puts his head on the pillow. I actually woke up to him staring me in the face this morning. Of course, I smiled at him. And yes, I am aware if it had of been a person I would have recoiled or asked, "Why are you staring at me?" 

After I got the gift, and the dog did his morning piddle, I hauled my ass to work. Along route, I noticed a coyote in the ravine by work. I was all, oh, look, a coyote, this morning totally is picking up and I think - My thought was cut off by the four-legged mongrel darting in front of my car and me narrowly avoiding hitting him! Last time I stop to admire nature. 

Even though I was only about fifteen minutes late, my usual parking stall was taken. (Oh, woe is me!) Still, I refused to be discouraged. Up I went, to my desk, where I took a seat and realized, I didn't have any lunch except the cashews and dried mango slices in my purse. Not really a well balanced meal. And of course it was on a day in which I was ravenous. RAVENOUS, I tell you. My stomach literally ate my brain. I mean, that's the only explanation for the ridiculous thoughts and actions that I delivered after arriving at my place of employment. 

Three notable things happened afterwards and here they the sequence of events in which they occurred...

1. Three hours into my shift a friend asked, "What the hell is up with your shirt?" Well, I'd buttoned it wrong. Like completely wrong. Not one button off, but two. TWO! It was lopsided and, as soon as she pointed it out, I realized rather uncomfortable. I fixed this, but it didn't reassure me that a simple act like dressing myself was too difficult to succeed at. I mean, it's not like I haven't been dressing myself for over two decades. In order to feel a bit better about this, I sought solace in knowing at least I had my pants on. 

2. A co-worker asked where my truck was parked. Of course, being the panicky individual I am, I went down to check. Only to remember I am a complete numpty and had to park in a different spot this morning because I was late. Tad bit embarrassing if you think about it. I'm not going to do that, though. I'm just going to move along.

3. Because I am a trooper, I went to the gym when I got home. I really wanted to have a nap. Instead, I ran my three miles, walked my mile cool down, did some pathetic attempts at stretching, lifted a few meagre weights, then slunk back upstairs to my nice, cool condo. Where, despite telling myself over and over not to do it, I laid down in my bed in my stinky gym clothes and fell asleep. Disgusting, right? I know, but I simply couldn't help myself. For the record, I did change my sheets. 

Thankfully, the day ended without too much of a hitch. And I slipped off to slumber around midnight. Still, I'm glad I didn't wake up this morning like Bill Murray in Groundhog Day and have to redo Monday. 

I'm hoping the rest of this week goes smoothly.