The Sinewy Lobster of Karma

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“And then a memory from Avalon surfaced in her mind, something she had not thought of for a decade; one of the Druids, giving instruction in the secret wisdom to the young priestesses, had said, If you would have the message of the Gods to direct your life, look for that which repeats, again and again; for this is the message given you by the Gods, the karmic lesson you must learn for this incarnation. It comes again and again until you have made it part of your soul and your enduring spirit.” ~ Marion Zimmer Bradley

“Our actions are like ships which we may watch set out to sea, and not know when or with what cargo they will return to port.” ~ Iris Murdoch

“Sometimes you get what’s coming around. And sometimes, you are what’s coming around.” ~ Jim Butcher

It’s hard to know where to start with all of this, but then I realize that I am not inclined to comment at length about the serious turn in the Trump scandal show. Suffice it to say that I feel some weight lifted from the turn, and it got me to briefly wonder at karma. That’s where today’s quotes came from. The concept of karma has always mystified me, mostly because so many people seem to go by some measure of not doing something because it would come back, creating bad karma. Or the inverse version, where ya do something to create good karma. I’ve always been like why don’tcha just do it because it is the thing to do, or not do it because it’s not? Of course my attitude toward karma might be a mite skewed compared to most, see’in’s how I got tangled up in a nasty, freak bicycle accident years back and I to this very day have no desire to delve into just what it might all mean on a karmic level. And take the notion, as some suggested, that someone tried to kill me, or maybe just get me out of the way of something which was like totally not on my radar. There is enough weight to that claim . . . well, let’s just say that I tend to believe that that is the case. Not that it matters. But, what sort of karmic flow nearly had me killed? And why? WTF did I do to deserve this? Yeh, and the NDE, what about that? Was the accident merely a vehicle – no pun intended (yeh, right) – to get me to the Other Side? If so, the vehicle that went wrong on me? Just how big was this vehicle? Perhaps you can see how this whole thing tends to drive me buggy, making me itchy every time I try to go rational with it. Or positive. Or to go positive. Don’t even try to tell me it is what it is. I know that. Couldn’t you just say you don’t want to talk about it any further? I mean, what’s with the karmic play-by-play?


Perhaps you have noticed that I am at the threshold of being cranky this morning. Yesterday was a day of intentional, hopefully mindful, rest. More so than usual. The thing is that I have come to tend to view this deep fatigue as more than a current, local phenomenon in my life. It is larger than that. Layer after layer after larger layer, all designed and built to keep my conscious mind from having to confront the many traumas that have hounded me ever since PTSD was born from the initial trauma of the accident. It’s a process that played out over time, but that which it addresses happened outside of the constraints of time, and I’m like “just get this time stuff off of me, it makes me feel all claustrophobic and stuff”. That’s one of the benefits of Indica as a medicine for PTSD: the legal weed tends to loosen up the grip of time to a large degree. One writer said that PTSD is like a photograph of the trauma at first impact. The trauma becomes frozen in the muscles and the endocrine system, and every fresh trauma that comes along after that sets that original photograph to ringing big time. For whom the bell tolls, right? Yeh, whatever, spare me the aphorisms. Without treatment each fresh trauma just wraps one more layer around the whole mess. You don’t want to hack through all of those layers in one fell swoop. What, are ya daft, child? That’s kinda what happened in the first place: my reality was hacked open like a sinewy lobster, the meat dipped in garlic butter, then devoured by Lady Destiny, who said quite calmly, “What ya gonna do now, baby boy?”. I still ain’t rightly figured that out, 34 years later. But days like yesterday are for scraping away at the most accessible layer. It’s an excavation more than a well-drilling exercise. Like yesterdays’ blog post title, the best advice is “take your time“. To that I might add that it might be best to put that time ya just took up on the shelf for a while, with a pink post-it note that says “Do not drive or operate heavy equipment while taking this product. One side-effect is that it may serve as a gateway drug for Red Bull”.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

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