Your Life As A Dung Beetle

Karma:

". . . . good and evil fortunes fall to the lot of pious and impious alike . . . ." ---Spinoza

You have no control over your Karma. It's going to happen to you if it is meant to happen and if it's not...it's not. Simple. That's which you have no control over. Karma. What is my karma? I think about the tragedies in my life. The loss of my wife and a good marriage. I have to tell you that it hit me out of left field. I wanted so much for her to leave as my marriage became more and more difficult, and then one day she says she wants a divorce. I have to admit, that at the time I wanted her gone, but after she was, there was the pain of being without her. I used to wish her gone, like I said, but was that thinking only falling in line with my Karma?

The loss of all of my earthly goods. My heirlooms, my collections, my valuables, my gifts, my toys, my things. Stuff that you know you can't do without. Everything that you give value to, everything that's in your house that if you thought you could sell and make money from, but couldn't dare part with. All my good things, lost to me in the blink of an eye. Karma?

"Karma is sometimes referred to as a "moral law of cause and effect." Karma is both an encourage- ment to do good and to avoid evil, as well as an explanation for whatever good or evil befalls a person." - Skeptic's Dictionary.

Was I that good that evil had to come my way sooner or later? To balance out the universal scale I had to have incredible suffering occur to me? I think about this and I wonder. My Karma is saying that I deserve what happened to me, and that there was nothing that I could do about it. Well, maybe with all the calamity that I've suffered, maybe my circumstances will begin to change. Maybe I will have a chance to redeem myself. My life does seem to be on the upswing. Two years ago today my address was the New York Public Library, but my Karma did not abandon me to such a life. Slowly and over time, I rebuilt my life.

I have had to rebuild my life anew. Instead of my library of books, both inexpensive and expensive, I have a handful of paperbacks that I get from book tables in the city for a dollar or two. Instead of a pretty decent wardrobe with expensive, tailor made suits, I have clothes that I've gotten from missions, and church giveaways. Instead of a network of computers in my apartment, all on the Internet, connected to Fax Machines, photocopiers, printers, I have a laptop and a multifunction printer; and instead of a three room apartment in New Jersey, I have a one room SRO in New York. Karma.

Some one told me recently that I have to get a life. Get a life. GET A LIFE? What do they think this is? A comedy show? I know that I bust people up with some of my comments, and I know it's hilarious even to me, but this is A life. It may not be the life that they define as one. I think back when I worked for Thomson Financial and took a break to go outside and have a cigarette with a group of my friends, and we were talking about coming back in our next life, and I commented that I'm coming back as a dung beetle, and we laughed about the life of a dung beetle, rolling around a ball of shit. But...to the dung beetle, that shit isn't funny! That shit is it's life. It eats shit!!! He didn't make his life that way, damn, he woke up one morning hungry and found out that the only thing that he could do was eat shit. So, if I have to eat it, why not roll some home as take out. And so he does.

What is my point here? Well, my life may not be ideal. I mean there was once a time where I had everything that I wanted, almost. There was a time that I lived a life with some purpose, almost. There was a time when I had more pride in my world around me...well I still do. I get up, breathe the New York air, get dressed and leave my room, walk up and down the streets, head to the SHOUT OUT or to another reading somewhere. I write poetry, read books, search for a job, and first and foremost...blog.

It's been hard for me to blog recently because when I'm writing, my brain must slip into some kind of alpha brain waves, because I quickly grow sleepy and my eyes droop, no doubt from the LUVOX, which can knock your ass out eight or nine times a day for two hour stints. That's a third of your day. Can you picture that shit? That's two thirds of a fucking day. This shit is just that strong. Now I don't even try to fight against it because it'll only shut my brain down, and then it's really lights out motherfucker.

Yes, well, my life may not be ideal, but it's the hand that I was dealt this go round. Karma? Why not? Why not something that I have little or no control of. I give that shit up worrying about things...another blessing from LUVOX that I will lose, my new cool and calm exterior and interior. A bitter return to catastrophizing. A new war will have to be waged, using other pharmaceutical tools to solve this and other problems.

Yeah, no one would want to switch places and live the life that I live, but it IS the life that I live. I am doing the best that I can in it. Whatever tools that I have been handed I employ. Whatever dragon I encounter, I slay. Whatever mountain I meet, I conquer.

Karma? Who knows? I don't.

I stayed in this Sunday, cleaning my room, surfing the web, reading my book, sleeping over and over again, making dinner, look for jobs, work on my novel. I stayed busy. I even blogged this post. This week I'm going to get ALL of the documents together that I need for the court case, and ask for an adjournment for one week to collect them. I want two weeks to at least build my case.

Sunday is my most favorite day of the week.

Karma?

Hobobob