"Worthless people blame their karma." (Burmese Proverb)

Today I slammed my toe into the blue recliner in our living room. I love this chair: it is friendly, worn-in, and comfortable. I never would have thought this chair, my friend, could hurt me so badly, After roughly three minutes of ramdonly linking extreme profanities (I hope my roommates don't think I'm a psychopath...) and watching my smallest toe grow large and blue, I walked to my room and sat at the computer. I checked my email, read some away messages, created a new Winamp playlist-- I forgot all about my injury, as often happens with minor toe stubbings. Then I got up to join Sandra in the war against the flies, and I nearly collapsed back into my seat. I couldn't believe the ache in my toe hadn't subsided yet. I limped off to the medicine cabinet in the bathroom, refusing to look in the direction of the blue chair. As class time quickly approached and my Aleve had not yet proven "all day strong, all day long," I left a few minutes early to accommodate my newly-adopted hobble.

My solitary walk proved to be an insightful one. With each flip of my flip flop against my inflamed toe, I couldn't help but think of recent Core 9 dicsussion in which we used to example of stubbed toes to illustrate the different degrees of pain and suffering God allow sus. Why had He let me hurt my tow so badly? Feeling quite the victim and milking any dramatics I could muster, I began to look back for a time in which I could have displeased Him, causing Him to take vengence against me. Still basking in my martyrdom, I quickly made the connection between myself and Job and promptly stopped, lest the Lord should obliterate my oxen, sheep, camels, servants, and children. Instead I thought about what an awesome weekend I had had and how fantastic it was to see all my friends... above all, Bridget. I smiled when I remembered her limp and "sprained ankle" from the recent "soccer injury." All at once, it hit me: karma. I had laughed at her when she told me the real story behind her limp-- I had, in fact, cracked up over it and laughed with every lopsided saunter we made to the Beer and Brat Tent that afternoon. She asked me not to tell anyone the real story, but instead I told several people and specifically asked them to tease her about it, and I laughed even harder every time she pretended to get mad that I had divulged her secret. Now, in reality, Bridget didn't care that I did these horrible things. She thought it was funny (possibly she would have thought it less funny had Mel not been paying for the beer that had made her so lighthearted).

In retrospect, I really do think karma had something to do with my injury. I'm a firm believer in The Golden Rule and, although it was a minor incident, I got mine in the end. As the title of this post would otherwise suggest, I am not blaming my karma for anything. I just had that wonderful feeling of all the nuts and bolts finally clicking into place when I remembered the turn of events with Bridget. To me, the idea of karma is more of a comfort than something at which I can point my finger. It makes me feel a little better inside to have even an inkling of an idea as to why unfortunate things occur.

Even now, hours later, as my poor toe is no longer the size of a pinky and is the color of my purple Thermasilk shampoo bottle, I am picturing Bridget sandal-less at Benny's and I am giggling. I'm kinda pissed at myself for still thinking that it's funny, because I really think I might have, in fact, broken my little toe... but apparently not pissed enough to forget how hilarious it was when Mo and I ganged up on Bridget about the inconsistencies of her impairment.