Karma

I like to practice karma. Not because I'm religiously attached to the idea of life after death being weighed down by ones moral practices in this life, but simply because it's a good practice. Statistically, if everyone were to do more good-karma deeds, there'd be more good going around and thereby one might have a higher chance of being on the receiving end of that good-doing, hence a return on interest.

Regardless of whether or not it ever comes back, in the traditional sense, I think it's still beneficial for the world and for one's own outlook on life. If I pick up and throw away an empty pack of cigarettes that's been left on the ground and later on find a dollar, I might associate my luck of finding a dollar with the good deed I did, and thereby create some positive link with good deeds and the resulting rewards, random as they might be. It might also, however, make mundane "good things" appear a lot better than they usually would. I might consider the toilet seat being put down by its previous user a reward rather than something I would normally take for granted, or I might delight in the fact that there's still an egg left in the carton or that the person who did laundry in the basement before me wiped down the counters. Whatever small of a thing it might be, it becomes enough for me to be truly happy over. I think that's a healthy mindset, to appreciate the small things but to also let them be your rewards, so to speak.

Sometimes of course there are bigger gains on karma investments, like on Sunday when I was leaving Rosenhill in the pouring rain with a 3 kilo bucket of honey in one hand and a bag of vegetables in the other, a complete stranger offered me a ride. As much of a hippie place as this is, I've found it very uncommon to get rides from anybody. Occasionally you can hitch a ride if you stick out your thumb on the main road, but carpooling to the bus stop isn't something that people consider offering very much. Wrong kinds of folk going out there these days.

Anyway, this middle-aged man stuck his head out of his BMW in the rain and called to me if I wanted a ride. I couldn't believe it! I've walked that road in ice and wind and rain and freezing temperatures, I've walked that road carrying all kinds of large and difficult to carry objects and nobody's ever offered me a ride. I thought maybe he'd take me to the bus stop or to Brommaplan where the trains start again, but he took me ALL the way to Fridhemsplan, which is the station where I can connect to trains on my line. It was a really awkward ride, because well, Swedes are quiet and reserved and don't make much small talk so most of the time I was just sitting there thinking of things I could say. We hit traffic and had to wait for a bridge to open up for a boat, so he turned off the car's motor and we just sat there in the rain, breathing and looking straight forward. But anyway, it was warm in the car and his son was in the backseat snoring really cutely. We made a little conversation of course, but it came in phases with large chunks of silence in between. Despite the slight awkwardness, it was a relief to be able to ride to Fridhemsplan in a heated seat, instead of having to take two busses and a train ride until I could connect to my last train. Thanks, stranger. I never even got to know his name. That was some good Carma coming back to me. Hahaha, gotta end the night with a little pun, now, don't I?