Dear Ms. Karma

Attn: Ms. Karma
Energy Balance Representative
c/o The Universe
Karmic Exchange Department

Re: Payment Plan No. M047621D442

Date: Today, a sliver of Eternity

Dear Ms. Karma;

If possible, may I request you please forward my Karmic Account balance? It seems I’ve been paying a particularly high premium as of late; I am attempting to budget life as best as possible, however, given this strict payback schedule I feel as though my resources are running rather thin. In reviewing my assets, it’s likely I may not be able to make many more emotional installments. At this point, however, I would be willing to negotiate a change in payment plan by perhaps offering physical substitutes by drawing blood, donating an organ or sacrificing my first born.

I understand this high rate of interest is a result of previous moral causations whereby I borrowed more than my allotment of forgiveness, but in inspecting my most recent behaviour statement it seems I am closer to the black than the red and am hoping, as a result, to see a high turnaround of karmic exchange in the near future.

In reading Section I, Part V, Subsection A.5 of The Universe’s Master Plan, I understand the effects of all deeds actively create past, present and future experiences thus making one responsible for one’s own life, the results of which are carried forward to future lives. Please be assured I’ve attempted to submit nothing but positive energy into the FLP (Future Life Plan) as of late and am hoping my PLP (Previous Life Payments) have been invested wisely by my appointed EP (Emotional Planner) to ensure the highest positive energy return.

I hope to arrange a meeting with you or one of your representatives at your earliest convenience to discuss a re-balancing of my karmic exchange. I look forward to hearing from you.

Sincerely,

M.L. H’art

The Dockt Or.

On the bus ride home last night, an older gentleman boarded and took the spare seat next to me. Like all bus rides home, my earphones were shoved deep into my ears, my nose deeper still into a book.

I coughed. The man beside me tapped me on the shoulder.

“Are you okay?” He asked, carefully pronouncing each word, genuinely concerned. I removed my earphones.

I couldn’t help but smile. I nodded, yes. “I’m fine, thank you.”

“I am a doctor, you know?” he laughed. Doctor, pronounced as two words: dockt or.

Yes, I’m sure many a doctor rides the bus, I thought to myself as I smiled curtly and turned my eyes back to my book.

“Okay, okay. I am a Dockt or of Theology. My name, my name is Serge.” Hand outstretched, eyes sparkling.

“Hi, Serge.” I shook his hand hesitantly. His palms were wrinkled and pale, his fingernails chipped and ragged, thick dirt underneath.

He produced a thick bunch of folded papers that had obviously been well-read and handed them to me. As I thumbed through the pages, he fished a photo out of his wallet and told me he always kept his little girl close to his heart. The picture was old and faded and had obviously been cut from a larger photo. The edges were jagged and her face was out of focus; she was beautiful nonetheless.

“Yours is a smile like hers, no?”

The bible, Serge told me, is the one of the world’s biggest enigmas. As it’s written, it is a riddle out of order.

“It is my job,” he told me, “to rectify this very grave mistake. I must put the bible back in the order God intended.”

On the papers were a series of verses from different chapters in the bible. Serge, it seemed, had painstakingly pulled together these wayward passages in a way that made logical sense. And, in fact they did: each lead seamlessly into the next regardless of the fact it was Luke or Peter or Jude or Ephesians.

He called those who’ve not yet read the bible “virgins” because they hadn’t allowed themselves to be penetrated by the light.

“You don’t need to understand it, you know. Just read it,” he said, palms turned to the heavens, his hands shaking. “I will put the pieces together so we all receive His message.”

Serge wasn’t of a specific denomination. “Religion, it’s all the same. We all find the same truth in everything. It’s just a matter of finding your light, okay?”

I nodded.

“I see the light in some people, you know? But fewer and fewer every day,” Serge sighed. The world, it seemed to Serge, had become a very dark place.

“I see light in you,” he instructed, “hang on to that light with all of your being, okay? You promise me?”

I nodded, though I wasn’t sure I believed I held light.

He told me I shouldn’t worry too much about getting married. “Don’t let a man trap you just yet, okay!” he laughed.

“Out there is a someone to care for you, I know it. You haven’t realized him yet. Or maybe he hasn’t realized you!” he winked, jabbing his forefinger at my naked left hand.

“I think you waste time with people who try to steal your light, my dear. Find the one who makes you shine, ya? ” he nodded at me. “Be prudent, my dear,” Serge said to me on the bus as I rang for the next stop.

I shook his hand and thanked him for our chat. He said: “Go gently into the night. Your light will guide you home.”

I nodded, stepped off the bus and headed for home.

xoxo

M.L. H’art

Great Expectations.

She knows better than to expect so much. It’s a hard lesson, learning the only person you can count on is you. Sometimes, she daydreams his touch actually meant something more than a how-to guide to fucking.

She bribes herself with alcohol, effectively bedding life one glass-eyed weekend at a time. No sense changing habits for someone who can’t decide if you’re worth keeping, she thinks; besides it takes courage to release the familiar, and courage, it seems, is something neither he nor she has.

In everyday, society is moved most by habit; she allowed herself to become his habit, just as drinking became hers and she, like a habit, is easily replaced by another and another and another and another until the original is forgotten, blown by the wayside for cigarettes, alcohol, drugs, sex.

She understands the innate human defiance to rationalize unhealthy habits. A risky interpretation, but an allowance for just…one…more to help pass the time, to help squelch the confusion, misunderstanding, sadness, anger, pain; there’s no other vaccine for bad behaviour and poor choices, after all.

By replacing her, he made her no longer meaningful, destroyed her purpose to him, with him. There is no security in what’s no longer meaningful and so, in order to find security in change, she must sacrifice what she is for what she could become.

xoxo

M.L. H’art