thoughts on the spaces in between
Hi there – just wanted you all to know that I’m going to be taking the karma truck in for an oil change and maintenance over the next couple of days. With a little luck, we’ll be up and running before you even notice we’ve been on the hydraulic lift (so to speak) – perhaps with a new paint job!! Given that I have no idea where to find the dipstick, these efforts should prove to be very interesting. See you in a bit..
As 2012 begins its inevitable walk to the ‘Exit’ sign, and 2013 lingers outside the Entrance waiting for the bouncers to accept its credentials and admit it into our crazy, rockin’ psyches, I’ve got to grab a moment of retrospection about the road the karma truck has traveled since I first turned the key in the ignition in early January of this passing year.
I had no map – as you now know, it would have proven useless anyway given my challenges with geography. I was just going to drive with an eye to the sky and an ear to my heart. Such spontaneous, free-formed initiatives were new to me. You don’t work within the confines of a white-shoe, professional service firm and ad-lib your actions too much (though I certainly did my share – after all irreverence can be a good and freeing thing). But again, I digress..
I agonized about hitting ‘publish’ for the first time, returning to my computer obsessively to see if anyone had stopped by. I learned relatively quickly to leave the ‘stats alone, and to let go of any fantasies of becoming one of those bloggers that arrive at notoriety with equal parts serendipity and timing. And as with most illusions that are suspended, reality became a far more incredible experience.
David Kanigan (davidkanigan.com) who writes’Lead.Learn.Live’ (read it read it read it – you will look forward to his posts daily, and feel a bit bereft if for some reason he gives himself a break to take a vacation or something) was my first ‘follower’. Lori, a writer by profession with prodigious creativity and warmth (and a fabulous gift unto herself) posting at donnaanddiablo.wordpress.com, was my second follower. Andy, my sister Deborah and friend Joanne followed thereafter. And now a year later with over 600 followers and 31,000 views, I still have no clue where the karma truck is going. What I do know is that it is traveling with an incredible entourage of people who openly share their thoughts, encourage me to keep the gas tank full and forgive me some of my lamer efforts (like yesterday’s post – a non-existent YouTube video – yes, I need more Apple therapy).
There is no question I would have continued writing, for there is someplace I’m heading with this, and I am hoping that one day you all will help me figure that out with your suggestions and ideas. But for today, as I look back I can’t ask you for anything more. I can only thank you for all that you’ve given me. Friendships that have grown out of invisible threads that somehow connected us – we each picked up an end. We have shared the stories of life – marriages beginning and ending, lives changing and morphing like shape shifters in a sci-fi novel, hearts exploding with pain and/or exuberance, illness and the new breath that arrives with the spring, questions with no answers and answers that are equivocal. We have been silly and we have been considered. These conversations have been some of the most fulfilling and instructive and delightful exchanges I have ever had. You let me risk tipping a hand that I have held close for a very long time. And you graced me with showing me yours.
I’m not sure what 2013 holds for the karma truck. I do know that I am incredibly grateful for the friendships that I have come to cherish, the absolutely crazy-with-talent people who I follow, with perpetual open-mouthed awe and an ability to be as irritating as a relentlessly circling mosquito. Thank you for your patience and encouragement.
I hope 2013 brings joy and good health, the courage to risk and the freedom to dream, long walks and endless possibilities. I hope you feel lighter and less inclined to contort yourself into something you are not – for you have shown over and over again how amazing you are without such unnecessary effort. I hope friendships deepen, love visits us all generously and often, and that we’re smart enough to relish its presence. And I hope what we put out into this world meets the threshold of kindness and grace that allows for only goodness to be returned. Here’s to next year.
(ps. David – if this doesn’t work, don’t tell me..;-)
“Le coeur a ses raisons que la raison ne connait point. French. Pascal. The heart has its reasons , whereof reason knows nothing.” — Madeline L’Engle
When my sons were little, ‘why’ was their favorite question. You all know the exercise – the repeated inquiry that dissects a question into the most inane and discreet detail; the exchange that lasts longer than one’s patience and ultimately resolves itself once the child loses interest in the game.
But age hasn’t tempered this query for me. I ask ‘why’ all the time – just not necessarily a loud (I say enough things a loud to perpetuate worry in those who hear me). Why do I know there’s wind despite my inability to see it? Why do I persist in my efforts to understand the puzzle of human behavior? And, with all that persistence, why can’t I at least figure out my own? Why do we establish expectations that are constructed as a house of cards? The only difference is that I have now discovered the answer.
Because.
These aren’t the questions for which there are more concrete answers. Reason doesn’t dictate the posing of such questions. Facts don’t satisfactorily assuage either, for these are just the surface results of queries that are too complicated to form in any sensible way.
Why does the heart want what it wants?
Because.
Because within the human condition is faith. Faith explains that which we believe to be true that we can’t see or explain. But we know. We know that there is such a thing as love whether or not our personal histories have experienced it, for our hearts ache for it sight unseen. We know that there are miraculous moments in a day – from the subtle connections that make you feel like someone just read your mind to the complicated ties that allow friends to ‘just know’ when something is up. The brilliance of a cardinal’s color on a leafless tree. Why did that one star begin to twinkle more brightly just as I was thinking of someone who is no longer here? Why? Why does the sunrise evoke promise and the sunset occasionally resemble the saddest colors in the world? Why was I lucky enough to learn that some of the most simple days are the happiest? Why do some people snort when they giggle? (Ok, I threw that one in there just to see if you were still with me).
Because.
And one of the nice things about being older is that you bring all the ages you have already been with you. So you know that ‘because’ can suffice. That there is a place for complex debate and study and philosophizing and a place for simple acceptance on faith. So today I accept the awesomeness of being here without further scrutiny. It just is. And if you are wondering why that in and of itself is ok with me? Because. Have a great day all.
This is a quetzal
I think it’s quite special
With colors so spectacular
There is no apt vernacular
So would you ask a quetzal
“Polly, do you want a pretzel?”
Or would you offer this cool avian
Something healthy vegetarian?
In it’s native Guatemala
Perhaps you’d start to holler
“No food for you as you well know
If no shoes, no shirt, no dinero”
At 3:15, one can’t expect a post far more germane
More witty, cogent, thoughtful not to mention more urbane
Perhaps it’s best I bid the quetzal ‘adios’ for now
And leave you with a sleepy smile, returning to my bough.
Everyone I know insists that they want to hear the truth. I’m not sure everyone I know is being completely honest about this. In fact, I think that most people prefer to hear selective truths. I’ll go so far as to suggest that we all filter certain realities just so we can wrap our heads around their implications.
– I believe that my bathroom scale is digitally confused and vindictive – swinging wildly between two weights – one I can live with, the other requiring that I eschew food for the next year.
– I believe we’re all a little neurotic.
– I believe that I’m really not getting shorter, rather the units of measurement have changed since I was a young girl and no one told me.
– I believe that the answers to global warming, cancer, Parkinson’s, Alzheimer’s and world peace are moment’s away from being discovered. And by this I mean, short moments.
– I believe in miracles. It all depends on your definition of ‘miracles’.
– I believe that continuing to nest even after your kids have grown, married and established homes of their own, is absolutely fine.
– I believe it’s still ok to keep a pair of sneakers in the garage even though I’ve been married for decades and adore my husband.
– And I absolutely believe it’s ok to cry at Hallmark commercials.
On a more serious note, my reality includes the belief that every dog has its day – and I’m not talking about canines here. Somewhere along the way, people who intentionally demean or devalue others will be subject to a painful lesson or two. Whether they get anything out of it or not, is something else entirely. Given that this reality developed early in my professional career (perhaps as a way of dealing with a perverted boss who routinely made sexual overtures, comments, etc), I encourage leaders to read this as a cautionary reminder. If you surround yourself with people who tell you only what you want to hear, and not what you should hear, and agree to follow directives that are questionable and potentially ill-conceived, you will become a person that even you would not want to follow. If you can’t effectively develop your people, you’re not a leader. And of course when the day comes when you realize that people are following you because they are paid a lot of money to do it, you will understand that core values have flown the coop, along with respect, loyalty and collaboration. Yes, I’m still passionate about this. I’ve been in too many conversations with too many people lately who are feeling the effects of uninspired oversight.
I realize I just broke one of my unwritten rules – not to write about leadership or management anymore. My apologies. I guess I believe that reality can be adjusted every once in a while to accommodate that which is scratching at your heart.
And at the end of the day, I believe that there are very few pure truths – though admittedly there are some. What I feel when enveloped in a hug, the way I can make Andy laugh until his stomach hurts, the way the ‘I love you’s’ from my kids can grab me by the throat. The tender velvet of a horse’s nose, the reality that gravity and I are really no longer friends, the magnificence of a cardinal posing in a fir tree.
Regardless of what you choose to accept or deny, I do believe that ultimately life has a way of working itself out. I may not be around to see it, I may not participate in the moment – but believe me – today I choose to accept the reality that everything is going to be just fine.
I want to thank David @ davidkanigan.com (Lead.Learn.Live), Renee @ positiveboomer.net and Ivon @ ivonprefontaine.wordpress.com (Teacher As Transformer) for according me the Blog of 2012 award.
David wrote me this morning and suggested I read the rules, because I wanted to nominate him. Apparently I can’t do that. This is yet another clue to my personality – I live within the spirit and intent of the law, though I can’t confirm that I always follow it to the letter. Call it petulance, a throwback to my pseudo-hippie years, or just a desire to expand the lovely opportunities in the day as widely as possible.
This is my way of telling you that I am bending the rules slightly, and I hope you’re all cool with that. In January, I will write a post about how I have been impacted by a year’s worth of experience in this community. For now though I’d like to just quickly mention that it has given far more to me than I have arguably given. Were it not for David and Lori (donnaanddiablo@wordpress.com), I would probably have not continued. I’m not in their league – I know it and I’m ok with it too. I’m not a writer, I will never publish…I’m just a woman trying to figure stuff out. David and Lori, in their personal and unique ways have somehow managed to keep me going each time I wanted to stop. I’m not kidding you – each time. Call it karmic connection, intuitiveness, generosity of spirit – it nonetheless continues to amaze and humble me. Perhaps we truly are connected by some thin red thread that quivers every time one feels like falling.
To me, this award is for those who have such talent, perspective, humor, aesthetic sensitivity, etc that I return to their blogs with eagerness and curiosity. What is Anake going to show me today, what pearls will Susan string together while forming her poetic necklace, has Bonnie been prompted by some life experience that resulted in a posting both thoughtful and intuitive? How will Misifusa lift me up today? Will I feel the need to opine about John’s perspective on leadership? You catch my drift. There is so much talent out there, I’m still a neophyte. At best I am a wondering soul with a decent vocabulary.
So without further comment, I nominate the following people for this award. They inspire, amuse, delight, challenge and do so with such consistency that they truly are the bloggers of 2012. The bad news, which I am fretting over, is that I’m sure I’m going to miss someone who I admire equally. I am hopeful you know that this is an error of oversight, not intention.
Cathy @ largeself.wordpress.com
John @ johnrchildress.com
Misifusa@wordpress.com
Paula @ stuffitellmysister.wordpress.com
Kristin @ letlifeinpractices.com
Bonnie @ paperkeeper.wordpress.com
Anake @ anakegoodal.com
Laurie @ passionateperformance.om
Deanna @ deannaohara.com (Redemption’s Heart)
Susan @ susandanielseden.wordpress.com
Elizabeth @ almostspring.com
Russ @ russtowne.com (A Grateful Man)
Bill @ drbillwooten.com
There are more…and this is where I am feeling the most anxiety – for I have been more enriched by this august cyber community than I ever could have imagined. I promise you this, I will have the opportunity to acknowledge all of you before the karma truck finally parks.
“How many slams in an old screen door?
Depends how loud you shut it.
How many slices in a bread?
Depends how thin you cut it.
How much good inside a day?
Depends how good you live ’em.
How much love inside a friend?
Depends how much you give ’em.” — Shel Silverstein
We can make life so complicated, can’t we? Sometimes it just helps to bring it back to the basics – like breathing. Are our breaths long and full, interrupted with a giggle or even a belly laugh? Or do we tend to breathe in short inhalations and exhalations, anticipating our next moves before completing the steps right in front of us? We know which is better for us, I guess it just depends on how important it is to us.
Today I’m off for my ‘barn’ tour. I am hoping to volunteer with an organization called “Lift Me Up” – their mission involves the use of animal therapy (primarily horses) when working with developmentally challenged children and young adults. It feels like a good fit for me on many levels – having experience with people who have unique needs (I’m not talking about attorneys here) and horses. It’s time to pay a little rent for the gift of being here in the first place – and this is also a way to up my happy quotient.
How hard can it be to embrace your day?
Depends how hard you hug it.
How fully can you live your life?
Depends what you put in it
How much joy can you find in a day
Depends on how you see it.
Have a good day all – find delight.
I am writing this from my new laptop – a MacBook. Lovely little piece of equipment – I have named her Lucy (as in “Lucy, I’m h-o-m-e”) with the hopes that we will enter into a long-term relationship of mutual respect and understanding.
We have a long way to go.
First of all, I’ve always been a ThinkPad person. All my earlier relationships have been with its different iterations. I knew what it was going to do before it did it – not needing to look at the keyboard, understanding the nuances of its prompts, able to keep multiple conversations ongoing without any need to cajole, plead or praise excessively. We knew each other. My files, saved pictures, ideas for future posts, etc resided in ‘my places’. We made space for each other and dare I say it, had that kind of intimate knowledge of each other reserved for only the closest of friends.
However, my ThinkPad was beginning to resist my ‘Good Morning’, refusing to awake until I re-booted multiple times. It was beginning to bristle at my demands and would arbitrarily just shut down while we were still talking (so to speak). It was becoming clear to me that we were tiring of each other – and we hammered out the details of our cyber-divorce. Right now she is upstairs, happily sleeping on a bookcase, thrilled to be rid of my furious banging and rants that I always directed at the screen.
Lucy is a laptop with a mind of her own – which I respect. I like independent thinkers. But she’s not even trying to be a pal. I can’t find the delete key (on this keyboard, ‘delete’ is really ‘backspace’), different applications keep bouncing up and down seeking my attention and don’t even ask me where my files are (though I know they’re here somewhere – I think this is a little passive-aggressive, but let’s not go there). To move the cursor down, I have to move my finger up on the mouse. It took me twenty minutes this morning just to figure out how to get the power cord extender to work. Clearly we are going to have to take this relationship very slowly. In fact, I am going to take her to a relationship specialist at Apple on Thursday – we have got to work on how we communicate with each other. Right now I’m making all the concessions in the name of maintaining a happy transition. She’s not doing a damn thing except sitting here pointing out my spelling mistakes and frankly, digging in her heels about what she will and will not do. Everyone insists how intuitive these MacBooks are – all I have to say to that is ‘ha’! She’s intuitive alright – she knows just how to make me feel like a nimnut.
I will rise to her challenge though – I am determined to make her my good friend, whether or not this is a relationship she would like to see move forward. We are going to learn how to talk with each other, remain open and available and delight in our journey. I will keep her clean and shiny and promise not to dribble coffee on her keys. She will show me where she has hidden my pictures, quotes, secrets and bad jokes that I never can remember. This is going to be a union made in techno-heaven. We are going to love each other with devotion. We will dammit. But first I need to find an instruction manual.
See High Above – Marlena Morling
You step outside
into the early morning
in autumn –
And at the exact same instant
a scrap of paper
floats over –
High in the blue
blustery library
of the air –
You look up
and you see it rushing
and lifting
even higher
into the transparent layers
of the sky –
And at once,
you know
it is a message –
A message
that there is no message.
The scrap of paper
is just a scrap of paper!
It is weightless
and free
The world is just
the world –
And you are exactly
who you are –
Also floating now
high inside
The invisible
balloon of
another moment.
What if we could just let it go? Give ourselves the grace of not second-guessing, seeking the ever-deeper answer, reflecting on our belly buttons until we can no longer remember why we got so engrossed in the first place (hint – there’s nothing going on worthy of self scrutiny of your navel)? What if we took the worry du moment and greeted it, acknowledged it for what it is and then remember that whether or not we hold it, its resolution will come? How would our day unfold if we wrote our sorrows on bits of paper and cast them into the wind – for whether we clutch them with tight fist or hold them loosely or let them go – the only thing that will change is the cramp in our fingers?
I hold onto things for too, too long. I carry them with me as if they are some unique treasure that must be coddled and cared for, when realistically they have little long term value. The typical takeaway for me is that I shouldn’t have wasted so much emotional energy. ‘Lesson learned for next time’, I tell myself. And this little voice in my ear laughs and wonders who I’m kidding. The truth is, that which should be held onto for that extra moment longer are often the things we miss as we’re moving on – a hug that transmits love, a conversation with a friend who just needs you to be one, a tumbler of Grand Marnier in front of a fire (or hot chocolate with marshmallows – and you have to get to the marshmallows at the perfect in-between-time when they’ve melted but are still formed).
Why is it that every time – every time I look up at the sky and ask “Please?” and say “Thank you” (which I do often enough in a day that I probably am developing a reputation in the neighborhood as the lady with the dogs who walks around talking to the sky), I am lighter? And if we know that our most peaceful moments come when we let go, do we insist that each time we don’t, we’re justified for doing so? I swear to you I have some thoughts on this – and I know you do too. In the interest of perpetuating my adapted version of National Listening Day, I’d rather hear why you hold on so tight, when we could instead release such encumbrances? What do you think? Anyone feel like letting go of the string?
“There are years that ask questions and years that answer.” — Zora Neale Hurston
It really is a little frustrating to consider how long it’s taking to get back into my groove. I’m still crazy tired, remain in stitches (though I’m not laughing), swollen, sore and without the energy to even consider where my get-up-and-go has relocated. I know it hasn’t even been a week. I’m petulant. I don’t care. This place I’m sitting in feels like really thick pea soup and I don’t even like pea soup. At about this point in my kvetching I begin to talk to myself (needless to say the tone is harsh and very imperious – you don’t argue with a voice like that). In effect she says, “Will you just knock it the hell off? So what? You’re uncomfortable? Get in line and in the interim, puleeze shut up.” And I do.
In the span of time that I have assumed the position of a lump, so much has been happening around me that perhaps my absence of movement is by universal design. Someone’s heart is aching with the uncertainty that comes with self-doubt and fear of loss; another prepares for a familial re-arrangement that will demand her energy and facility with the emotional bob-and-weave. One friend works to rebuild her family’s factory post-Sandy, ending each day more exhausted and spent than the day before, knowing full well that tomorrow the day begins again. And another story is beginning as an amazing soul works to establish herself in a new position which combines her tremendous talent with her equally impressive sense of aesthetic. I see a person I care about being forced to consider new employment for reasons which make an ethical retired HR exec break out in hives. No one is curled up on the couch right now, covered up in the deliciously soft and worn blanket with the embroidered words “just be”.
My friends are caught in various stages of the years that pose the queries. Some perhaps are closer to answers than others. And if there is one thing that we all share it is the need to embrace the times when we just don’t know, when the answers are elusive (perhaps because we’re asking the wrong questions), and the only option available is to keep asking. Keep being uncomfortable. Wonder, doubt, assert, withdraw, huddle, hide – and ask. Now is not the time to stop asking, for closure without answers that feel good in your skin, is no closure at all. Learning to love the questions is a little like learning to love being out of balance. Out of balance means that you can grab for something to keep you from falling without having to hold onto it forever. Out of balance means that you see the world with the perception needed to focus on one thing – and perhaps seeing it with the most exquisite clarity. Out of balance means that you are exercising the emotional muscles that have to be toned to keep you upright, albeit shakily. Love the questions as much as you seek the answers. They must be posed – this is their time.
I too am asking questions all the time — from the mundane (why can’t they just find out what is taking up real estate in my jaw) to the more complicated (what is my next dance step? what music feels right? what am I waiting for?). This is the time and I am not shying away from the exercise. Yes, it makes my heart beat faster, tears fall with a little less censorship and sometimes I’m sure that I am jumping out of my skin. And then I focus on an enormous blue jay holding a twig of crepe myrtle in its mouth, knowing with certainty he’s off to build a future. Aren’t we all?
[youtube.com/watch?v=EcH6rHAH43w]Home from the hospital – sore, swollen, fat jaw, bruised eye. You should see the other guy. Seriously, he looks great because I was asleep during my limited introduction to the doctor’s graceful hands and exacting instruments. To add insult to injury, I think I even shook his hand before the procedure began. Of course, I befriended the nurses, anesthesiologist, anesthesiologist’s assistant, nurse’s aide, phlebotomist and the volunteer who checked me in. My interest is genuine and it also hedges my bets. To like me is to help me if I need it and I really try to be a likable kind of patient. Because mostly all I seek is a smile, a little reassurance and a cup of coffee.
I woke up with my heart pounding in my ears – “You’re awake! You’re alive” I silently repeated my name and address, the names of family members, all the dogs we’ve had in proper order. Wiggled my toes, fingers, nose – all present and accounted for. Kelly the red-haired nurse who got engaged two weeks ago and is trying to plan a Christmas wedding because she’s also two seconds pregnant, brought me some ginger ale. Ah, the art of sucking soda through a straw with a fat jaw is a challenge. Half of the soda stains my hospital gown, the rest manages to make it down my throat. “Where’s your pain level Mimi?” About six, I gesture with my fingers. “Do you want me to give you something for the pain” Nope – just want to go home and put my head on my pillow. Someone give Andy permission to get me home.
The reality is that with a circle of angels and a firm belief that there is a God, I got home pretty damn quickly. And now that I’ve got nowhere I have to be, I will settle in and calm down, spend a bit more time soothing the voices in my head that tend to repeat stressful moments over and over – and over. The whole thing took far longer than originally planned, for they removed two nodes instead of one. But it’s all good – between the slices sent to microbiology and the samples to pathology perhaps we’ll know exactly what these interlopers are made of and how we can kick them out of their residences. Hey, maybe there’s a poem about neoplasm in here! I hesitate to write too much because I still have a lot of meds in my system. True story – after one of my spinal fusions, I received a call from work with news about a fantastic year-end merit bonus I had received. Good manners being important to me, I immediately sent off an email to the Chair and the Vice Chair thanking them profusely for such largesse. A few days later when I was corpus mentos, I read the sent email and it looked in part like this – “Thank you so much – I amrealyslpeesed…” Was I horrified? Yup – and when I called them they each laughingly assured me they were archiving the messages as a sample of when my writing ability eluded me. Nice guys. But I learned the valuable lesson that it is better sometimes to defer your communications until you are able. In fact, there should be a warning label on medication which says “don’t drive or operate heavy machinery and if you feel inclined to write something, move away from the keyboard and whatever you do, don’t hit ‘send'”.
So before I make a WordPress fool of myself (wouldn’t be the first time, though it may be the first time it was unintended), I’m going to sign off. Thank you for your prayers, your smiles, your sunshine, your teasing. Thank you for your good wishes, better friendships and outstanding support. Thank you for grinning if you find this sounds a little un-Mimi like and still read it all the way through. And when I can lift a glass of something less benign than ginger ale, I will raise a glass to you.
No one living in the States has been able to avoid the news of General Petraeus’ resignation upon the discovery of an affair with his biographer, Paula Broadwell. This isn’t a post about the implications of his decision, issues of cyber-security and/or who will succeed him at the CIA.
The press and pundits keep referring to this dalliance as ‘an extra-marital affair’. Isn’t that redundant? If a person is married and is having an affair, by definition isn’t it ‘extra-marital’? And typically the reaction to the idea of something being ‘extra’ is usually positive. “Extra-strength”, “extra-special”, ‘extra-ordinary”. And from where I sit in this instance “extra-aneous”. We got it the first time.
This reminds me a little bit of poorly written street signs. “Caution children at play” – what are we supposed to be warning them about? “Deer crossing” – who knew deer could read and were limited to crossing roads at appointed places? Is a “quiet car’ on a train really silent? I’ve yet to sit in one – snoring is a noise, keys tapping on a keyboard, requests for soda…all emit sounds. I’m sure you’ve got examples of your own – which I’d love to hear. I particularly wonder about signs that say “blind person crossing” – how the heck can they see that? Don’t you think it would behoove us just to keep our eyes out for someone who may have visual limitations?
I wonder if that’s why there are so many possums born dead in the middle of the road. There are no signs for them.
Somehow though, the idea of duplicative language seems particularly hurtful when it comes to the actions people take outside their marriage. Just say ‘affair’ and let it go. It hurts enough – we all get that whatever happened, occurred outside the marital construct. I’ve come up with some other messages that would elicit more explicit reactions and understandings. “Smile” – the here and now is pretty good”; Give people the better side of yourself and see what happens”; “Children – if you’re playing, be careful of the monkey bars and stay away from the street”; “Deer – cross wherever the heck you want, but look out for cars”. Let’s keep them easy and clear and to the point. Oops, I guess that was iterative. I guess this is something we all have to work on. And I leave you with this one which I think is priceless..
Waiting for the Karma Truck 