Do you believe in karma?
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To clarify, I’m neither Hindu nor Buddhist. So I guess I can’t really say that I believe in karma in the true religious sense of it. As I understand it, karma is the total sum of your experiences—not just in this life, but in previous lives as well—all of which go on to determine your future existence.
But today, in the modern world, people often talk about karma just as luck or fate. People say things like “karma is a bitch” or that someone has good karma or bad karma. Again, in Hinduism or Buddhism, there is no good or bad karma; there is simply karma.
I don’t really believe in reincarnation, either—mostly because the idea of an eleven-year-old version of The Old Man running around somewhere just breaks my brain. (And yes, for anyone trying to correct me, I realize that isn’t actually how reincarnation works.)
However, is there something to be said for the more contemporary use of the term? I do believe the universe has a way of evening things out. When something good happens, something bad happens. And I feel like I’ve had a lot of good karma lately. Things have been really going my way for a while.
So maybe my car accident on Monday was just karma catching up with me. Or maybe it’s a blessing in disguise. I think there’s more to it than just bad luck.
I finally went over to the impound yard on Thursday afternoon to get the last of my things out of the van. As I said the other day, this is the most serious car accident I’ve ever been in. Looking at what was left of it, I feel like I should’ve died on Monday night.
I know I’m probably being overly dramatic. I know people who’ve been in a handful of car accidents themselves, so maybe this is nothing. This is only the second car accident I’ve ever been in, however.
It’s frustrating because I’ve driven back and forth to Charleston, South Carolina, probably dozens of times. I’ve driven to Florida a handful of times, and I literally drove to California. I’ve driven to Missouri, and up to Wisconsin a few times now that Kid 1 is in school there. I’ve done all this driving—probably hundreds of thousands of miles on the road over the last 35 years—only to fall into that stupid statistic. My accident happened less than three minutes from my house. In fact, the intersection where it occurred is one of the corners of my subdivision. I’m probably not exaggerating when I say that I’ve driven through or crossed that intersection on foot 10,000 times over the course of my life.
On Tuesday night, I went over to Sierra’s house and faced the music. I pulled up the police report, and it said pretty much what I already knew. I got distracted. For a fraction of a second, I took my eyes off the road and smashed my van like something out of a Hollywood action movie.
Wednesday night, I got back in a car and drove for the first time since the accident—which I think for a lot of people is one of the hardest hurdles. I drove right back through the intersection where it happened, all by myself, and I instinctively found myself holding my breath as I crossed it.
I don’t know what it all means, but I feel incredibly lucky right now. Also humiliated, disgusted with myself, embarrassed, ashamed, and angry. Needless to say, I’m working through a lot of stuff.
The best news of all, though, is that the other people involved weren’t hurt. It sounds like I got the worst of it, which is exactly how I wanted it to be. I would’ve lost my mind if someone else had gotten hurt because of me.
I’m not sure what’s gonna come out of all of this. I mean, yeah, I have a good idea—I have to get another car, preferably something used. But that’s not what I’m talking about. I’m going to have to process this for a little bit.
In other news, I got back to work yesterday, which I think I needed. I need to get back into the regular swing of things. It was kind of sweet because some of the kids were asking me if I was okay. I don’t know if word got out about what happened; I have to wonder if one of my students actually saw the accident, which wouldn’t surprise me.
Ever since I saw the van at the yard on Thursday afternoon, I’m feeling a lot more somber. A lot more subdued. Not that I used to bounce around like I was all gregarious, but I’m sure I had a certain level of arrogance to me. Maybe it wasn’t arrogance as much as it was hubris.
When I was clearing the van out on Thursday, I realized something else was in there. Back on Saturday night when Sierra and I went to the game downtown, I had grabbed a Columbia jacket that used to belong to my father just in case I got cold. I didn’t take it out of the car. A piece of The Old Man was right there in the van with me on Monday night. I’m not a religious guy, and I’m not even a terribly spiritual guy, but I have to think that meant something. In fact, I know it did.
I’ve been talking a lot about the last quarter recently. I thought I was ready for death if it ever came for me. But the first second of that collision, all I could think about was, “Oh shit. This is it.”
There’s a line from The Karate Kid Part III I think about a lot. Near the end of the movie, Mike Barnes is just pummeling Daniel at the All Valley tournament. Terry Silver and John Kreese look over at Daniel rolling around on the floor in pain. Silver looks to Kreese and says, “He’ll get up. He’s too dumb not to.”
That’s me in a nutshell. I’ll get up. I’m too dumb not to.
Rebuilding a life takes grit, consistency, and a lot of ‘Option C’ thinking. Having crossed the 1,000-day milestone, I’m now charting the territory beyond. The mission remains the same: No glitz. Just the work. New to the blog? Start your journey here to see the blueprint and the ‘Tricorder’ perspective behind the rebuild.
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