I've spent my whole life doing good deeds. I stand so others can take a seat, I hold the door for anxious holiday shoppers, I even forgo my morning java fix so some child in Africa can feed his village with my seventy-three cents a day. All this good deed doing is supposedly building up in some karma bank in Switzerland so that one day I will reap the benefits of the greatness I have sown. In the meantime I suffer from caffeine headaches and fallen arches.
As I progress down this journey of life looking to the horizon for my payback and seeing nothing but empty roads ahead of me, I find myself drawn to the review mirror wondering if there was more I should have done, if there are doors I've left unopened, and are there children I could have saved? Then answer, of course, is "Yes." I have learned, through much travail, that there is always more -- more to give, more to do. If the answer is always the same, maybe the question is wrong. Maybe we shouldn't be asking at all. If seventy-three cents can't buy our way to a comfy karma, can it at least buy peace of mind.
