I'm not a superstitious person. I don't believe in God either. Most things are explainable by science or coincidence, but not everything. So, today I'm filing this story under weird, and then asking you to decide where it should fit. Even friends find it hard to believe.
I dated someone years ago who believed in Karma. “Life has its way of balancing itself,” she always said. “Be kind and kindness will come your way.”
The last time I saw her, she was shy, almost a hermit-like individual. Her quiet, homebody lifestyle bubbled along nicely until her spouse ran off with their child's nanny. That's when she turned. She became white-hot and invoked the power of Karma to strike him down. I heard the stories of his lying — the affair — some kind of argument — a divorce — and the division of their assets.
I felt sorry for her. Just as I was about to reach out and hug her, she admitted something to me that had me reassess my position on the matter. She said she poisoned his toothbrush. She manipulated the courts to get money from him, and full custody of their daughter. She cackled when she said she could do whatever she liked because she had the police and the judicial system on her side. I couldn't believe the level of deception she’d created around her bubble of hatred. I began to feel sorry for the unnamed man and a daughter caught in her private war.
Where was the nice woman who believed in Karma? Where was the one who once said, “Be kind and kindness…”?
And then she swished back the curtains on the window of her recently finished living room and the light poured in. "You like?"
The mountain I saw on the other side of it stole the show. My eyes became transfixed. "Wow! Very few people get to have that as a feature for their living room."
"I know. It's so cool, isn't it? Do you know the name of it?" She asked, grinning as though she’d conquered the territory all by herself.
"Sure, it's Mount Lindesay," I replied. "I've photographed it many times."
I heard a loud gasp. The curtains snapped shut and the room suddenly went dark. She was silent and began biting her nails. I asked about her odd reaction and, as it turned out, the mountain's name was the same as her former husband!
And that’s where friends of mine lose support for my story.
They tell me that it couldn’t have happened that way. Number one, Lindesay wasn't his real name and, number two, it's hard to accept a woman not already knowing the name of a mountain that's right outside her home. She should already know!
I get that — a fair statement. I wouldn't have believed it either. A mountain and a former lover can’t share the same name. Not a name like Lindesay.
But they did. The spelling was different but they sound identical.
Which brings me to issue number two.
There are valid reasons why she didn’t know the mountain's name. Her home was built in a hurry during a time of high emotion. She bought the vacant land without visiting it. She was busy bundling up her old life and baby girl a thousand kilometres away. Most of the home and land arrangements were done remotely and by photos. She told an architect to draw up the house in a way that would take advantage of the view. She then spent her days between her parent’s home, lying to the police, visiting the courts, and then cheating every system to get more of his money to build that house.
Identifying that distant mountain wasn't a priority. Feeding her hatred monster was far more important.
Now do you believe?
Was it God’s Will? Karma? Or chance coincidence?
-Mitchell