Held in karma’s arms
Life policy can have serious repercussions
“This is what you get when you
mess with us.” - Radiohead’s
“Karma Police”
Attention: THE KARMA
POLICE ARE VERY REAL. NO
AMOUNTS OF DOUGHNUTS OR
COFFEE CAN SLOW THEM
DOWN.
There’s a new policy (not reli
gion, mind you) out there that is
meant to soothe the soul in one sub
tle sip.
Until recently, when someone
would ask me what religion I was, I
would reply, “I was raised and con
firmed a Methodist; that is, a Baptist
who can read, but I don’t follow any
one sect now. I’ve thought about
being Jewish simply because of the
utter coolness that exudes from
Barbra Streisand’s every pore, but
that gets complicated. What was
your question?”
After the confused looks faded,
and time passed on, I found some
thing to cling to that I am pretty
comfy with. I practice it 24 hours a
day, and I don’t have to go into a
church.
It’s called the “karma, dude”
policy, and I live and breath it.
If everyone learns how to master
and maintain this policy, the world
will be on an eternal natural high.
because she didn’t do a good deed
“just because.” She did it so she
could appease the Karma Police,
and once you subscribe to their dis
xvcuiua ifc nui
a religion. I call it
a policy because
karma can be
self-interested,
but it is self-inter
ested by making
yourself and oth
ers around you
happy. Karma is
not a god. It is a
concept. We do
not praise karma.
In fact, karma
could exhibit
some pretty nasty
repercussions if
praised. You don’t
want to live your
life thinking in
terms of karma’s
inevitable powers
over you.
For example,
after a stranger
helped my friend
park her car, the
strangerfthen
The tricky thing about
karma is that you
never know when or
where it will catch up
with you. I once
pushed a girl off the
swing-set at daycare
when I was 8, and 13
years later my bike
was stolen. It wasn’t
stolen by a bicycle
thief; it was stolen by
the Karma Police.
u ici,mere s
no turning
back.
I’m not
saying my
friend was
wrong for
doing the
good deed.
In fact, she
made some
one else’s
day. But
karma must
be a subcon
scious policy
only credited
when a good
or bad event
happens to
you, not in
terms of “I’d
better be
good or else
However,
most altruis
tic people
asked tor a nde to the airport. My
friend, realizing she was under the
microscope of karma’s precarious
eye, gave the lady money for a cab
while thinking the whole time that
karma would get her if she didn’t do
something.
Needless to say my friend is
going to feel the repercussion soon
don t do things tor an underlying
purpose. They do things to bring a
smile to people’s faces, including
their own. This is karma in a nut
shell.
Basically all life comes down to
one motto: We need to be good to
people, animals and nature and, in
turn, these things will be good to us.
Karen Brown is a senior English andfilm studies major and a Daily Nebraskan columnist.
Poop, no wonder I get painful
headaches all the time -1 eat meat.
Karma is derived from the
Buddhist and Hindu stance that the
totality of a person’s actions, in any
one of the successive states of that
person’s existence, determines the
fate of the next stage. Now, I person
ally like to doctor things up a bit or
make them more simple, depending
on my mood. I simply don’t believe
in the “next stage.” A heaven, if you
will, does not exist for me.
I feel that my actions here and
now only will affect my life on
Earth. I will be gracious and reward
ed all in one lifetime!
When I’m good or bad, my fate
will be adjusted according to my
actions. I repeat, my actions, not my
mind-set. Simply “thinking good
thoughts” is the mantra for the tools
of the psychiatric world to repeat
when life is getting to be too much.
You, too, can let your actions
reward you if you only catch the
fever. For instance, if you don’t read
this column and absolutely love it, a
tornado will scoop up your grand
mother. If she’s not alive, substitute
grandmother for puppy. If you don’t
have a puppy, I’ll get back to you.
“Karma Police I’ve given all I
can it's not enough/I’ve given all I
can but we ’re still on the payroll.”
Once you subscribe to the karma
policy, there’s no turning back.
Karma’s enlightenment will fester
inside of you until you either destroy
yourself or realize the magnificent
benefits that your subscription will
reap.
Maybe karma is the lazy man’s
‘religion’ because there is no wor
shipping involved. But hey, no one
ever said that God wasn’t# couch
potato.
The tricky thing about karma is
that you never know when or where
it will catch up with you. I once
pushed a girl off the swing-set at
daycare when I was 8, and 13 years
later my bike was stolen. It wasn’t
stolen by a bicycle thief, it was
stolen by the Karma Police.
Another example is that two of
the three houses I have lived in have
been struck by lightening. Maybe
the negative karma in the house was
at an all-time high, (I do recall my
roommates and I running over an
old lady for a good time the night
before.) but only my stuff was
zapped. (I was driving when we ran
her over, and now I recall that my
roommates didn’t want me to do it
in the first place.)
Anyway, no other religion can
compare with the “karma, dude”
policy. My karma ran over your
dogma is no joke. We need to adhere
to this philosophy as quickly as pos
sible so I can take the credit for the
mass transcendence. After I’ve
shown all people on Earth how to
better themselves in two easy steps,
(think good thoughts and then do
them.) I will be resting perfectly
safe and sound in my 19-bedroom
mansion complete with 20 underfed,
abused servants.
Is that heaven?
Bees, bunnies, bugs
Anne Geddes ’photography highlights innocence, unconditional love
“I was awakened, that fine sum
mer day, from a nice long nap, by
my mother. She put me in the car
and dragged me to this upscale stu
dio apartment, where I was stripped
to my underpants. I then was forcea
to wear mouse ears and a tail, and sit
in a huge shoe with this other guy
who I did not know and who was
starting to smell a little ripe, if you
get my drift.
“Before I know it, bright lights
started flashing, and I see a middle
aged woman standing behind what
appears to be a huge, black insect.
At this point I lose my composure
and start screaming bloody murder.
The lights keep flashing. That was
the first time it happened.”
Cameron pauses to take a sip of
his Dr. Pepper. As we share a table at
Yia Yia’s and wait for our pizza, my
stomach starts to feel a little queasy.
His story sounds like a strange
dream, but I know he’s telling the
truth.
“I don’t remember much about
the second time. I was asleep. But I
saw the pictures. The third time was
the worst. A hundred of us, naked,
standing around in flower pots.
Some people were crying, some
were laughing; no one knew what to
say. It was all so confusing.”
I ask Cameron if he worries
about it happening again.
He shrugs. “I think I’m too old
to be much use to them now. Ever
since I learned to walk, they haven’t
bothered with me.”
* * *
Two-year-old Cameron is a vic
tim of a strange, yet largely unques
tioned, cultural fad - the photogra
phy of Anne Geddes. The
Australian-born Geddes lives in
New Zealand with her husband and
two daughters, making a living pho
tographing babies - without their
consent.
As if this weren’t bad enough,
the babies are forced to wear Easter
bunny, bumble-bee or sunflower
outfits and sit in oversized eggs,
rose beds or bowls of eggnog.
Why on earth would someone be
motivated to do this? Geddes
explains on her official Web site: “It
just didn’t seem realistic to me that
people took their children along to
photographic studios all dressed in
their Sunday best, and came home
with images of formal children or
babies lying on sheepskin rugs -
photographs which didn’t really
depict the personality of the child.”
One must agree that it’s much
more common to see a baby napping
on top of a pumpkin than dressed in
formal church clothes. But Geddes’
struggle to portray realistic images
does not excuse the injustice done to
her models.
Not only are the babies without a
union, but once they are past their
prime in youthfulness, they can no
longer be employed by Geddes.
Uneducated and having no job
skills, the babies generally are
forced to live with and mooch off
their parents for the next 16 to 20
years.
* One must question the mentality
of the people whojillow this travesty
to happen, all for the simple joy of
viewing pictures of babies sitting in
large cabbages.
Most people who buy Anne
Geddes pictures do so because they
are “cute.” What makes these
images cute - the props or the actual
babies? After pondering the image
of my grandfather napping on a
pumpkin clad only in diapers, I must
conclude that it is indeed, the babies.
Geddes’ photographs celebrate
the fact that there is vir- #**' 11
tually nothing you can
do to a baby to make it
cease to be cute. Even
dressed as horrible,
stinging insects, babies
are appealing. Why is
this? I believe it has
something to do with
their apparent inno
cence, their obvious
helplessness and the
fact that you’ll never
see a baby purposely
spit on the sidewalk
while walking around
campus. (Guys, what’s
up with that? It’s totally
nasty.)
We are also drawn to
babies because there is no
such thing as an ugly one.
Only in infant form are
humans loved uncondition
ally by most other humans.
When you are a baby it
doesn’t matter what you do !
for a living, how smart you
are, who your family is or A
where you live. A baby is
seen as perfect. v
* * *
Cameron finishes his
pizza and walks out ofYia
Yia’s into the pouring rain,
the reluctant idol of all of
us who yearn for the age of
purity.
Before there were bro
ken hearts, before there
were ugly words, before
there was disappointment,
there was innocence.
Geddes’ work captures that
and gives us hope for a
brighter future.
Betsy Severin is a sophomore broadcasting major and a Daily Nebraskan columnist.
