Karma

In an Chapter 7 of his introduction to Vedic philosophy entitled An Idealist View of Life, Sarvepali Radhakrishnan, the esteemed philosopher and former president of India, argues that the doctrine of karma is compatible with human freedom because, although karma links us to our past lives, we still have the creative power to shape our life though the choices we make.  

He uses the analogy of a hand in the card game Bridge to elucidate this. We are dealt a hand at birth (due to our karmic debt from previous incarnations), but we can play our hand as we wish (we have free choice to do so, within the constraints of the cards we’ve been dealt).  

Radhakrishan concludes by observing that belief in karma makes us more compassionate toward the less fortunate.  We should not feel superior to those who are faring badly because we share the human frailty that, through karma, led to their misfortune.

All of which is to say that anyone who has the opportunity to ride their bike around Seattle on a reasonably warm and mostly dry evening in February, and end up at the shore of our fair city’s great lake to enjoy a cheery little bonfire, with beer, conviviality, and friendship, ought to be especially compassionate and deeply grateful to their previous incarnation, who must have been a pretty good person to have afforded them the opportunity, in this incarnation, to be able to do so.

Whoever I might have been last time around was likely a way better human than I am this time around; otherwise, how could I have ended up so lucky?  Makes me aspire to be as kind and compassionate as I can so that whoever I am next time around gets similar opportunities for two-wheeled shenanigans; one can only do their best and hope.

And who can say, anyway, whether reincarnation really happens.  I’ll just enjoy and appreciate this hand I’ve been dealt, and ride on.

Exactly

Back during the years of the Obama Presidency, when I was a wee lad in my fifties, it was rare that a Point83 ride wouldn’t have me finally arriving home around 2:00 or 3:00 in the morning.  

There were many miles to pedal and several watering holes to get to before the night was over; sometimes not one, but two outdoor fires, with often a final one after the bars closed at the beloved Fremont Firepit where people would pass out or nap for a bit before their eventual wobble home.

Ah, youth!

These days, by contrast, I’m satisfied with an evening that hits all the high points and checks the requisite boxes: some sort of street-level nonsense at Westlake, a ramble along the waterfront, a new parking garage in which to quaff a (apparently stolen) cold one, a massed-up bridge crossing, a very quick, but highly-enjoyable conflagration, and finally, a single bar, for just a little bit.

Back home in bed well before midnight, but it’s plenty.

And these days, who needs a full 327 words?  About half that is fine.