Good Karma...

Karma Whitaker...

That was the name of the woman I met in the temple last night. She was little, and stooped and smiley. Her name was printed clearly on her white nametag.

Karma Whitaker.

It made me wish my name was Karma. Maybe it would remind me to be nicer to people at the grocery store, and to not yell when I drive, and to not leave my dirty dishes in the sink, or mutter things about my boss in my head that may or may not pass the PG-13 rating cut.

I doubt that Karma Whitaker is in charge of doling out much actual Karma. But I think, just in case, I will start trying to rack up more of the good kind of Karma. The Karma Whitaker kind of Karma. The soft, smiling, stooped kind of Karma that leaves you quite pleased with yourself at the end of a long, productive and happy life.

That's the kind of Karma I'm after.