Have you ever had a lingering grudge for good reason? The kind that inspires semi-absurd fantasies of just deserts?
Last year I was stabbed in the back about a business matter by someone I
thought was a friend (I won’t go into details, they are neither relevant to
this post nor fun to recall). The unhappy memory has an annoying habit of
popping into my mind unexpectedly. I tend to ruminate for a minute or two, then
realize I’m not enjoying myself and try to find a thought to conclude the
memory and move on. Often this means imagining some form of karmic justice.
The catch is that I often follow
that up by feeling guilty about wishing so much ill on a person: “No, I really
don’t want a meteorite to fall on her house and smash everything she owns, that
would mean her dogs would be homeless too and it’s not their fault she’s a
terrible person.” And sometimes said karmic justice would likely backfire: “Of
course, she probably has insurance, so if a meteorite DID hit her house she’d
get a ton of money, rebuild everything and remodel her kitchen--I deserve a
new kitchen, not her!” So I feel dissatisfied, and then the unhappy memory
retreats to the back of my head and waits to lunge out at me unawares at a
later date.
But yesterday, I think I finally
found the right thought to satisfy my need for retribution, and soothe my
mental unease sufficiently that I might retire the complaint entirely. I was on
a walk (yeay, walking!) and I saw a pretty tabby cat hiding from the rain by
curling up on someone’s porch swing. It was totally at home, regarding the
weather with regal indifference. I wondered if the cat lived in that house, or
was just temporarily claiming the porch for its own purposes. And then I
remembered…
The “friend” who stabbed me in the
back was plagued a stray cat who frequently slept on her porch. The cat seemed
to enjoy defecating and coughing up hairballs on the walkway and on her chairs,
and since she often did business of her own on that furniture she ran the
constant risk of important people stepping – or even sitting – in cat sick.
(Pauses for a moment for a happy
visualization.)
Just recalling her frustration and
anger every time she went outside and saw that stray cat’s leavings is enough
to put a smile on my face. So now, every time my brain instinctively begins
rumbling and grumbling about the injustice of her treatment, I’m going to send
a psychic request: “Kitty! Puke on her porch!” Then I’ll indulge in a daydream
of her unending, helpless fury against feline bodily fluids left randomly on
her property. For once, the punishment totally fits the crime. *sigh* I feel
better already.