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Isn't it interesting that every time you hear this, it's related to the negative behavior of someone?
If one person does another person wrong, then you'll hear "Hey, what goes around comes around". But this is not only true regarding our wrong deeds, it applies to all our actions.
This is known as the Law of Cause and Affect. This Law decrees that whatever you send into the Universe comes back. That action and re-action are always equal and opposite. This of course is referred to in many ways: karma, prayer, you get what you give, etc. It's even the basis for the Golden Rule, do unto others as you would have them do unto you.
A thorough understanding of this Law can truly be life altering. Knowing that this is not just theory, but a "Universal Law", can literally be a huge break-through, but there is something that is vital to keep in mind. Although you will always receive back the good which you send, you won't know when. So unfortunately, because we live in a world of immediate gratification, many do not have the patience, or understanding to work "with" this Law for improved results in their lives, and therefore blame their misery and hardships on others.
Here's what is incredibly ironic. Despite the fact that some may not necessarily believe in the Law, it's already working in their life. The Law is perfect. It does not discriminate. In other words, what a person gets is directly related to what they give, but because they don't receive good fast enough, they fail to believe in the whole "karma thing" and therefore continue to send out negative thoughts and behaviors...yet the Law is at work and they're getting exactly what they're giving! Try and get your head wrapped around that!
Want to find some peace of mind and live a happier life? Then practice this . . .
Never worry about what you are going to get - just concentrate on what you can give.
I read this story recently and was reminded how this Law works within and governs our lives. I hope it inspires you as it did me.
Make it your best week, Joe
The Cab Ride I'll Never Forget
Twenty years ago, I drove a cab for a living. One time I arrived in the middle of the night for a pick up at a building that was dark except for a single light in a ground floor window.
Under these circumstances, many drivers would just honk once or twice, wait a minute, then drive away. But I had seen too many impoverished people who depended on taxis as their only means of transportation. Unless a situation smelled of danger, I always went to the door. This passenger might be someone who needs my assistance, I reasoned to myself. So I walked to the door and knocked.
"Just a minute," answered a frail, elderly voice.
I could hear something being dragged across the floor. After a long pause, the door opened. A small woman in her 80's stood before me. She was wearing a print dress and a pillbox hat with a veil pinned on it, like somebody out of a 1940s movie. By her side was a small nylon suitcase.
The apartment looked as if no one had lived in it for years. All the furniture was covered with sheets. There were no clocks on the walls, no knickknacks or utensils on the counters. In the corner was a cardboard box filled with photos and glassware.
"Would you carry my bag out to the car?" she said. I took the suitcase to the cab, then returned to assist the woman. She took my arm and we walked slowly toward the curb. She kept thanking me for my kindness.
"It's nothing," I told her. "I just try to treat my passengers the way I would want my mother treated."
"Oh, you're such a good boy," she said. When we got in the cab, she gave me an address, then asked, "Could you drive through downtown?"
"It's not the shortest way," I answered quickly.
"Oh, I don't mind," she said. "I'm in no hurry. I'm on my way to a hospice."
I looked in the rear view mirror. Her eyes were glistening.
"I don't have any family left," she continued. "The doctor says I don't have very long."
I quietly reached over and shut off the meter. "What route would you like me to take?" I asked.
For the next two hours, we drove through the city. She showed me the building where she had once worked as an elevator operator. We drove through the neighborhood where she and her husband had lived when they were newlyweds. She had me pull up in front of a furniture warehouse that had once been a ballroom where she had gone dancing as a girl.
Sometimes she'd ask me to slow in front of a particular building or corner and would sit staring into the darkness, saying nothing.
As the first hint of sun was creasing the horizon, she suddenly said, "I'm tired. Let's go now."
We drove in silence to the address she had given me.
It was a low building, like a small convalescent home, with a driveway that passed under a portico. Two orderlies came out to the cab as soon as we pulled up. They were solicitous and intent, watching her every move. They must have been expecting her. I opened the trunk and took the small suitcase to the door. The woman was already seated in a wheelchair.
"How much do I owe you?" she asked, reaching into her purse.
"Nothing," I said.
"You have to make a living," she answered.
"There are other passengers."
Almost without thinking, I bent and gave her a hug. She held onto me tightly.
"You gave an old woman a little moment of joy," she said. "Thank you."
I squeezed her hand, then walked into the dim morning light. Behind me, a door shut. It was the sound of the closing of a life.
I didn't pick up any more passengers that shift. I drove aimlessly, lost in thought. For the rest of that day, I could hardly talk. What if that woman had gotten an angry driver, or one who was impatient to end his shift? What if I had refused to take the run, or had honked once, then driven away?
On a quick review, I don't think that I have done anything more important in my life. We're conditioned to think that our lives revolve around great moments. But great moments often catch us unaware-beautifully wrapped in what others may consider a small one.
Kent Nerburn
The above story is taken from the book Make Me an Instrument of your Peace by Kent Nerburn
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