Karma: Leg-Breaker of the Universe
During my morning reading a few months ago, I came across a passage that casually tossed a bucket of icy cold water upon one of Buddhism’s most enduring ideas — Karma. Specifically, this author — a dyed-in-the-rakusu Buddhist monk — laid waste to the notion that the Universe works on a hyper-efficient system of metaphysical pulleys and levers in which all good deeds are rewarded and all nefarious acts are punished. Karma, he stated, is not real, but a hokey emotional crutch conceived by people who cannot accept the inherent inequalities of life. Essentially, Karma creates the illusion that life is fair.
As the street thug dashes into the crowd, with the woman’s purse under his arm, she thinks, “Karma’s a bitch,” hoping that as the direct result of his actions, terrible things will befall him. To her thinking, in this life or the next, the Universe will exact a terrible price on this man for having the audacity to prey upon this poor stranger. The author of my book would write this off as a coping mechanism to get through an emotionally difficult experience.
I disagree. Karma is not quite the flowery mumbo-jumbo you find scribbled in the margins of a yoga instructor’s gratitude journal. No, it’s a cold-eyed hitman with a Rolodex full of IOUs, ready to kick down the doors of your comfort zone at the first whiff of imbalance. We’re not talking about some soft-focus montage of good deeds rewarded and bad ones punished in clean, narrative strokes. Karma doesn’t do Hollywood endings. It’s a feral force, raw and unsentimental, wielding the scales of the universe with a snarl instead of a smile.
The Greeks called it Nemesis; Buddhists — other than the aforementioned author — call it the wheel of Samsara. To me, it’s an unfailing cosmic boomerang: every action you fling into the void comes arcing back, often with enough velocity to knock the teeth out of your delusions.
And it’s not all doom and retribution. While the phrase “Karma’s a bitch” imbues the concept with snarling punitive overtones, Karma plays both sides of the coin. Commit a righteous act, and you might just wake up one morning to find the universe slipping you a $20 bill in the form of serendipity.
But here’s the catch: Karma doesn’t operate on your timetable. You can plant the seed of good fortune in spring and reap the whirlwind ten years later—or tomorrow. It’s a roulette wheel where the odds are calibrated by your own decisions. Spin it, but don’t complain when it lands on double zero.
The kicker is that Karma thrives in the shadows of intention. It’s not about the shiny Instagram post of your community service; it’s the dirty fingerprint on the scale when no one’s looking. Every snide comment, every selfish move—it all goes into the karmic blender, grinding your motives into the smoothie of your future.
So, what do we do? Live clean? Commit to offending no one ever? Hell no. Life’s too short to tiptoe around the edges of chaos. But if you must fling your energy into the world, aim true. The boomerang will always return, so let it carry something worth catching.