Karma. Fate. We hear it all the time. I know people, fine Christians who pray for guidance while shopping. They get the only fresh loaf of bread from a shelf of stale. Destiny. Heck, my wife does that.
A quiet neighbor goes off his nut and shoots 6.
"He was always very quiet and aloof." People say. "He didn't talk to anyone. He was a timebomb waiting to happen." It was meant to be. Or one Actor out of a thousand gets, 'discovered' and his neighbors say: "He was always very artistic. I could tell he was different. It was meant to be."
Some have told me I must have bad Karma, after the incredible messes I've gotten into. Hell, I have great Karma. Anyone else would be dead. Inside I've always known when I do my part it will work out. But I have to do my part. But beyond this, there is the possibility of pain and joy. How could anyone say that Yvsa's troubles, or Silverfalcon's, or my own, or Walosi's or Rusty's, well, you've gotten the idea: Bad things happen to Good People. In the New Testament there are at least a couple examples of awful things happening to otherwise OK folks for no apparent reason. "He must have done something really bad." Jesus was told. He overthrew a thousand years of belief by saying that was not so.
Alright, now I've bored you, here's the safety portion of this morning's program; I did something very stupid and got away with it.
Several weeks ago I was up most of the night with a crying baby. I hadn't been sleeping well anyway, the apnea returned with the flu and mouth and synus infection. Someone had to stay with Baby and my wife needed her sleep, so I did this for her. She did not know this; she was busy sleeping...like a baby, of course.
Here it is: I left a 20" 2.3 pound Villager laying on the wood pile next to the wood burning stove. It's used to trim stems and branches from larger chunks for consumption in the stove. I have a 16 month old baby boy who loves to watch me cut wood. He grabs sticks and mimics the Khukuri. Little fellow is always by the wood pile chopping away.
Now we come to: "How sharp does Munk keep his khukuris?" Well, this particular one is sharp enough to cut paper and wood, but not shave with. What I call a working edge.
I was at the desk next morning. My second computer was busy dying from the same worm that killed the first, and I was staring in stupification at the screen. Out of the corner of my eye, down into the recessed living room, there was movement. Little K was looking at me smiling while holding the Villager by the edge. He wasn't walking yet but he could hold the Khuk.
There is 40 feet between he and I. Hard to visualize, but around two corners, 3 stair steps, and a narrow foot-wide path between Christmas packing material and baby supplies behind the sofa.
It cannot be described as a run or a leap. It was the most forward movement possible. Passing the steps in the turn I slipped on some wrapping paper and lost my footing. It would not be accurate to say I fell. To fall one must land. I had no time for a landing; that was unimportant. During the fall, forward movement was continued. A toe or toes broke along the way. Something happened to my left wrist. But with reaching arms I grabbed that baby and Khuk and removed the blade from his tight grasp.
There was not a single scratch or mark on my son.
I have very good Karma. There are Angels in this world, and small children, fools, drunks and truth seekers are protected. My wrist started moving correctly a couple weeks ago. The foot is on the mend. But who gives a sh-t? Not I.
What are the three rules of handloading ammunition, working with blades or power tools? Never when tired, intoxicated, or distracted.
I remain fascinated by Karma, Fate, Prayer and just plain awful and wonderful events. Merry Christmas.
munk
A quiet neighbor goes off his nut and shoots 6.
"He was always very quiet and aloof." People say. "He didn't talk to anyone. He was a timebomb waiting to happen." It was meant to be. Or one Actor out of a thousand gets, 'discovered' and his neighbors say: "He was always very artistic. I could tell he was different. It was meant to be."
Some have told me I must have bad Karma, after the incredible messes I've gotten into. Hell, I have great Karma. Anyone else would be dead. Inside I've always known when I do my part it will work out. But I have to do my part. But beyond this, there is the possibility of pain and joy. How could anyone say that Yvsa's troubles, or Silverfalcon's, or my own, or Walosi's or Rusty's, well, you've gotten the idea: Bad things happen to Good People. In the New Testament there are at least a couple examples of awful things happening to otherwise OK folks for no apparent reason. "He must have done something really bad." Jesus was told. He overthrew a thousand years of belief by saying that was not so.
Alright, now I've bored you, here's the safety portion of this morning's program; I did something very stupid and got away with it.
Several weeks ago I was up most of the night with a crying baby. I hadn't been sleeping well anyway, the apnea returned with the flu and mouth and synus infection. Someone had to stay with Baby and my wife needed her sleep, so I did this for her. She did not know this; she was busy sleeping...like a baby, of course.
Here it is: I left a 20" 2.3 pound Villager laying on the wood pile next to the wood burning stove. It's used to trim stems and branches from larger chunks for consumption in the stove. I have a 16 month old baby boy who loves to watch me cut wood. He grabs sticks and mimics the Khukuri. Little fellow is always by the wood pile chopping away.
Now we come to: "How sharp does Munk keep his khukuris?" Well, this particular one is sharp enough to cut paper and wood, but not shave with. What I call a working edge.
I was at the desk next morning. My second computer was busy dying from the same worm that killed the first, and I was staring in stupification at the screen. Out of the corner of my eye, down into the recessed living room, there was movement. Little K was looking at me smiling while holding the Villager by the edge. He wasn't walking yet but he could hold the Khuk.
There is 40 feet between he and I. Hard to visualize, but around two corners, 3 stair steps, and a narrow foot-wide path between Christmas packing material and baby supplies behind the sofa.
It cannot be described as a run or a leap. It was the most forward movement possible. Passing the steps in the turn I slipped on some wrapping paper and lost my footing. It would not be accurate to say I fell. To fall one must land. I had no time for a landing; that was unimportant. During the fall, forward movement was continued. A toe or toes broke along the way. Something happened to my left wrist. But with reaching arms I grabbed that baby and Khuk and removed the blade from his tight grasp.
There was not a single scratch or mark on my son.
I have very good Karma. There are Angels in this world, and small children, fools, drunks and truth seekers are protected. My wrist started moving correctly a couple weeks ago. The foot is on the mend. But who gives a sh-t? Not I.
What are the three rules of handloading ammunition, working with blades or power tools? Never when tired, intoxicated, or distracted.
I remain fascinated by Karma, Fate, Prayer and just plain awful and wonderful events. Merry Christmas.
munk
