A Foggy Blogging Debut...

And so it starts...

I know I said there would be a general election held to choose the title of this blog, but I am almost certain that after hearing this story, you will find Blind Karma very much like Cinderellas glass slipper; just perfect.

Cinco de Mayo good morning-ed me to a sky full of sunshine and blue skies, I really couldn't have asked for a more beautiful day. I was so happy, not only because Mexico is a thriving and democratic country (viva la revolucion!) but I had just decided that weekend that I was going to make Salt Lake my summer stomping ground. Because I had flown home early from Africa and India to find some grounding amongst my chaos, right? And where is there a better place to ground yourself than the place where you have spent most of your childhood, grounded? Home...right? Yes, home is where I ought to be...free from hoodlums and thieves alike.

I packed the car with all my favorite things...

~Yoga bag with mat to later stretch the day away
~computer to do some emails from a nearby coffee shop
~awesome Indian purse with all the essentials...aloe vera gel, glasses, GLOSSY LIPS!
~brand new road bike so that I could park the car and bike to all my destinations

My day outside of the house was to start with a minor jog in the canyon. I have just returned to a land free from the offense of African gazes on my crotch, and being so vulnerable from my time abroad, I intend to take full advantage of what America has to offer. I park the car (this is my moms car mind you) and start heading up the steep incline that would detail my workout. I should have taken the twist of my left ankle on an un-suspecting large root protruding in the middle of the trail, as a clear sign to turn around and head back, but as a quintessential Taurus, I am not known for my eagerness to deviate from plan A, but rather my intensely strong stubbornness. So, naturally, I kept going, running off the spasms shooting up my shin. On that very run I couldn't help but think how lucky I was to be from such an aesthetically pleasing city, to have this very backdrop in my own backyard. What human at this very moment could be any luckier!!!!

As I made my way back to the car, retreating my jog to a jaunt, I thought "jeeeeeze, moms windows are so clean they look rolled down." It only took a nanosecond for my glare to go from clean and clear windows to the shattered and scattered glass that lay strewn on the asphalt. Hmmmm.

Now, I have most certainly voiced my opinion on how horrible the gas mileage is and how even more horrible the turning radius is on this car, but shouldn't double-paned-un-destroyable-strong-as-steel-glass make up for all these flaws? Like in the Bat Mobile. (Lexus will most definitely be getting an ear-full.) No purse...no glossy lips...no computer...no yoga mat (what kind of person dares to take the mat of a yogi?). But, as if someone want to prevent me from slinging myself off a very high cliff, I see my bike, unscathed, glowing in the back.


The unfortunate thing is this feeling - of violation - it is all too familiar and is almost expected. I took notice. My reactions are becoming far tamer. I didn't cry nearly as much as I did with the train in India incident and I think I have only caught myself 3 or 4 times daydreaming about recommitting every step I took that Cinco de Mayo afternoon. It will be interesting to see how calmly I can react to the next one.

I am not sure if it is an actual and legitimate category in the Guinness Book of World Records but I am willing to bet everything else I own (which is nothing) that I am the front runner as the "person to be robbed the most amount of times" in 2008. Let's see. This makes it about the 6th robbery and we are only talking since January. (This may be book-worthy if I count the number of times in my life.) I could also give lectures on the topic. "The Art of Getting Robbed: once you replace...it'll be gone without a trace". I am turning into that girl that no one is going to want to be around for the fear that all my bad juju will rub off on them. I am already the unfortunate soul who saw her moms boyfriend naked in the kitchen at 4 a.m. on her birthday and now this. My karma is grandiose...we are talking crater sized and I must have done someone WRONG in a past life to warrant such harsh consequences. I am a good person right? (validate that comment people) But just where are all these bad circumstances coming from?

So this is where the Blind Karma theme comes in, and it is so CLEAR that I am not seeing the reappearing pattern. It is too bad that my glasses were in one of those bags because everything just seems so blurry and unclear. I thought that home, in Utah, was a safer place than Delhi, India? I thought that I had already learned my most tormenting and valuable lesson that day on the train platform? I thought that Millcreek canyon was home to fun-loving outdoor types who like dogs and hiking and picnic-ing their Mormon lives away?...not yanking all my stuff.

But the more I analyse and rationalize the more I realize that everyone is blind to their karma. We can say that life is really just one fat and gigantic blind spot for karma. I will learn my lesson one day, I know I will. Whether that means I need to hawk-eye and bear-hug all my belongings with the notion that no one is innocent until proven guilty OR that eternal happiness will only come when anything and everything tangible is stripped from my possession, I do not know. But as I sipped a much needed glass of wine that night, pondering the ebb and flow of these tiny life secrets, I gazed at my bike. One set of hazel eyes directly at one set of black handlebars. And with my blinders on, not knowing my hand in life's deck of cards, I smirked and thought "it is only a matter of time until you too, meet your fate"...and than I went for a ride.

The Bike that survived...this time