Good Karma Music Stories

Had the opportunity to bring soup and blankets to some of the elderly members of our community as the weather has cooled down here in NorCal. Providing for them when they have limited access to the outside especially with the pandemic precautions being taken by the US

My husband’s closest friend in Madison, who is 84, just suffered a terrible loss. Back in the 2008 recession, his son had lost his good-paying job and ever since then had just worked whatever minor jobs he could find, hourly, not the salaried work his family of four was accustomed to him doing. Eventually his wife divorced him and he moved in with his widowed father, back in his childhood home, into a room in the basement since his father was a morning bird and he was a night owl who played video games and watched tv late into the nights. During this pandemic time, the son had taken over all the grocery shopping and had taken up most of the cooking as well. They would eat dinner together most nights. One night a week ago the son asked the father if the father could clean up the dishes after the dinner because he wasn’t feeling so well. The next day it was quiet in the house and the son didn’t come up for dinner and the father had some charity work to attend to outside the home. The day after that the father decided to go down and check on the son and found him dead, some problem with his heart. The autopsy found him Covid negative but his heart had been greatly enlarged and swollen.
Yesterday I cooked poppyseed kheer (an earthy warming milk drink) and dhokla (rice and dals that are soaked, then ground, then fermented, then steamed, then sliced into small diamond shapes, then fried in ghee after popping mustard seeds and adding curry leaves and green chilli cut in paper thin rounds): a savory snack that is eaten while drinking the hot kheer. And I wrote a card from our family for the bereaved father and I put it in a new cotton shopping bag with bright beautiful colors that I had bought years ago but had always found too pretty to use. And added in 2 beautiful new kitchen towels, that I had also bought years ago with the idea to gift sometime. And then also a toffee-crunch chocolate bar and a peppermint chocolate bar that my husband had brought home with the groceries earlier that day. Then asked my husband if he would deliver the food and drink and pretty bag with the card and towels and chocolates to his friend. As we were packing it into his car, my husband said to me, “In India we may certainly give nourishing food, but we don’t give gifts or sweets when someone dies. I told him that in America we also don’t do this. But that I was remembering when our younger son was three years old and the only time I ever remember him stubbing his toe and how he immediately ran and climbed up onto our futon couch and proceeded to vigorously jam his stubbed toe into a throw pillow stuffed with semal. Pillows stuffed with semal (kapok) are unimaginably soft. “Did that help?” I had asked him after a bit. “Yes,” he had said, relieved. “All the softness took away all the bang.”
In this situation here the hurt seemed a critical wound, and I badly wanted to take away some tiny part of the sting, of the bitter, of the horror.
The funeral (burial of the son’s cremated ashes) was today, because of Covid restrictions, just family, all of the deceased’s immediate relatives, father, sister, former wife, two teenage daughters.
I know that my small gesture is not enough, that it is practically nothing. May it just be the start.

I convinced a stranger Facebook marketplace seller not to sell E cigarettes and vaping kits. The seller thanked me for the information that caused harm by E cigarettes.

I helped to cook food for the monks in a temple close by .

I help a person relieve part of her pain today.

I have help delivery man with shampoo.

(from Bernie): Following a hip operation, late July, I have been doing daily walking exercise round the back yard initially, and then up and down my street to add gradient. Since Covid, I’ve been making more effort to chat to neighbors – at the 1.5metre distance of course – especially the elderly who may be living more isolated lives. That’s been fun – meeting people I’ve only seen from afar before.
Recently, we had Council kerbside collection, where you can put out large items of furniture etc. that you want to give away. As I was walking the street, I saw one of the elderly neighbors dragging a tall cupboard up the pathway by the side of her house. I couldn’t walk past and not help, so called out and offered a hand. She was happy to accept and together we managed to put the cupboard safely on the verge for collection. Chatting afterwards she told me how she still kept so fit at 83 years’ old. I’d hope I could do as well as that age! I came away with a smile on my face: spontaneously helping others always makes me feel good too.

(from Xing Fei): I’ve noticed my neighbor George has been becoming more frail, even though he still loves to keep his garden neat and tidy. I’ve been thinking of offering to help before, but he’s usually replied ‘I can do it, slowly, slowly.’
Last week, when I was weeding my front garden, I noticed George was out weeding and putting down pebble-mulch in his flower beds too. So, I plucked up the courage and offered to help again. This time he accepted happily. He told me what to do, where to get the bucket and pebbles. I also did some weeding to speed up his work with the pebbles. I felt good to be able to help him a little.