The Way Karma Works, Or, Religion and A Girl

I was not raised with religion, except for the religion that we "didn't do" religion, the same way we also didn't say "I love you" the way some other families did. My father was a philosophical ex-catholic atheist and my mother was like her mother: she said we believed in Santa Claus.

I get nervous around churches, especially big ones with stained glass. Despite my lack of christian training, there must be something in the blood: I feel guilty when I step inside. I am the daughter of a non-believer, whose dad said "you don't need to bow your head; just be quiet and respectful" and so being the dutiful daughter, I do it still. I'm all awestruck and chin-up in a church and scanning the room for other disbelievers (sinners?) like me.

But philosophy or the love of it and my mother's paintings? That is a kind of spirituality that is more about living things. It's about morality and a knowing kind of participation in life and not about where your body goes when it dies. And that worked for me as a kid. It worked for me less as a thinky college student trying to make up her own kind of religion, but I think that's part of the process of growing up. I didn't so much lose my religion -- I wished to find one -- what with rebellion and the way it goes. 

I ended like most kids: right back where I came from. I am still scared in churches and wondering if anyOne is watching and get, well, thinky like my dad and paint words like my mom.

 

 ***

Today, a little bit of mine and theirs and Buddha and God and some divine force of Mother Nature collided for me. It was raining (of course) and I had a blind date with a grieving woman.

I spare the details, because they are not my details, but I will say that afterwards, I couldn't stop thinking about why bad things happen and reasons for it and karma and the whole thing about God. 

I have decided that bad things happen to good and bad people all the time, senselessly and totally devoid of reason. I have decided that it's what happens after something bad happens that measures our role in the grander scheme. That's when karma is either a blessing or a bitch. 

***

I wanted to shake things up? 

I think just saying that I did a couple days ago made some of the ripples of blessings around this grieving woman touch me. Because today my sister who has never loved music as much as me sent me three songs to hear -- and I dug 'em. Because today my other sister said I told a story that was the gift she was waiting for. Because today a friend, my comrade in grown-up tomboy, shared with me something that made her cry (in a good way) and that made me cry (in a good way) and that I passed along, which I never ever do, and it made other people cry (yeah, in a good way).

Maybe it's God or Buddha or Mohammed or who knows. Maybe it's magic. All I know is that today I believe some dots I couldn't connect were connected by someone or something that is not me. 

And maybe that's karma, yo. 

Maybe.