A Burning Issue

I snarled at a colleague, who's also a friend, in the bookstore where I work last week.  It wasn't so much what I said, as the way I said it.  I "put it right out there" just about as angrily as I know how.  I don't know if saying I was vicious would be overstating it, but the delivery of my comment surprised the few people who heard it, and no doubt rattled the cage of the colleague I was addressing.  Had my delivery been more sedate, the fact that it was slightly clever might have been noticed, and no doubt more effective in getting the message across.  But I was angry - very angry - and suddenly emotions that had been simmering beneath the surface erupted.

I didn't feel sorry for my outburst right away.  If anything, I felt smug and self- satisfied.  But soon afterwards I realized that I had not presented myself in the best light, even though I knew my anger was justified.  What ever happened to taking a deep breath before responding?  But this was a perfect case of spontaneous combustion.  My colleague had made a comment that sparked my pent-up, fiery feelings.  There was no room or time for slowing down to breathe, let alone think about what I was doing.
After I had time to consider my sudden outburst, I realized I owed my friend an apology.  She graciously accepted it.  That was over a week ago.  Although I still believe that my anger wasn't entirely unjustified, I'm still shocked and sorry by my response.  And that brings me to the whole point of this particular little blurb...
I got burned a few days ago, literally.  I was cooking and got a nasty little oil burn on my thumb.  It's still quite ugly, but finally starting to heal.  Can you see where I'm going with this?  Yup.  It's the old what goes around comes around thing.  You know what I mean - karma.  It's also Freud and his there are no accidents theory.  Some people might say karma and Freud aren't related in any way.  The Universe sends around karma, but we make our own accidents.  I tend to agree with that, but in this case the two are inextricably entwined.
I've observed that sooner or later I'll suffer consequences that fit my little crimes, e.g., if something's "bugging" me, I'll get bitten by an insect, or some creepy little infestation will occur.  Well, I "burned" a hole in a relationship with an inflammatory remark, and I subsequently got burned myself.  Big time.  Sounds like karma to me, and fits the pattern of my life perfectly.  But I also helped karma along, because I couldn't let go of my guilt.  It plagued me, and there was nothing I could do to let it go.  I'd apologized, but it wasn't enough.  Enter Freud.  I "accidentally" burned myself.  I found a way to punish myself for my misdemeamour.
Now that my self-inflicted injury has finally stopped hurting so much, I feel better about the whole sordid little incident with my friend.  I figure balance has been restored.  And my belief in karma has been reaffirmed - yet again.  Many people would call this sort of reasoning sheer bunk.  It's all random, they say - accidents do happen. To which I say of course they do.  My Universe includes everything, including randomness.  But if paying attention to how and why things seem to happen to me keeps me responsible for my actions, then I'll stick with that.  Call it flaky if you must, but it works for me.
- G.P.

My Gita Tante

I'm back after a long spell, and what a "spell" it's been.  It's conjured sadness, grief, some joy, and lots and lots of love.  My beloved Gita Tante, my most ardent and consistent follower, has died.  She was my biggest fan.  It hurts me to think that she'll never be sending me her thoughts about my most recent blurb, whether via email or speaking to me personally.
Gita Tante really listened to me.  She  truly heard what I had to say.  Mind you, for the last year or so, as her health declined, she wasn't visiting my little web as often.  But every once in a while, when she was strong enough to visit me online, she'd read about me right here, and I could always count on her to acknowledge my presence.  Her interest and responses to my musings was one of the reasons I have a little web at all.   Most writers, or artists or any discipline, express themselves in order to be heard.  I could always count on Gita Tante to pay attention to me.
Gita Tante was an exemplary listener.  And if you`ve been following me at all in this space, you`ll know by now that listeners are my favourite kind of people.  Her listening validated me, and her genuine interest in what I was doing and how I was feeling gave me a sense of self-worth I seldom feel so consistently from anyone else.  I suppose this sounds as if this blurb is all about me, even as I'm writing about a profound loss.  Well, that pretty much describes how Gita Tante made me feel whenever we shared time together.  She managed to make to make me feel as if, yes indeed, it was all about me, but without making me feel selfish or thoughtless.  It was strange how I could spend all my time talking about my joys and woes with Gita Tante, and still feel like a better, kinder, more considerate person for it.  How's that for casting a spell?
Time spent with her lifted my spirits.  She admired and respected me even when I hadn't done anything to deserve it.  And if I did accomplish something, no matter how big or small, she heaped an embarrassment of praises upon me.  Sure, sometimes she was over the top, but hey!  Who doesn't like being loved and appreciated once in a while?  Who doesn`t like being adored?  And I saw her do this time and again with the many people she loved, especially her children and grandchildren, nieces and nephews - the younger generations of the extended family.
Gita Tante was not only my maternal aunt, she was my Goddess Mother as well.  I can`t think of anyone who deserved that title more.  She was highly intelligent, knowledgeable, and above all, wise.  She believed that all the people she cared for - and she cared deeply for so many - were worthy of respect and admiration.  I feel truly blessed to have been one of those people.  She championed my work as a writer and actor even when I was paralyzed with doubt and despair.  She offered me respect when I had none for myself.  She believed in me, and told me so, many times.  Her love made me a stronger, better person.
I shall miss her.
- G.P.