Text, against swirling lines of yellows and oranges reads: Maybe karma's not the bitch around here.

Maybe Karma’s Not the Bitch Around Here

Read time 2 minutes. Karma—Is she a goddess, or just a girl named Karma? Either way, the phrase “karma’s a bitch” hardly seems appropriate.

Maybe Karma’s Not the Bitch Around Here

Whenever a defendant loses on Judge Judy, they always say the same thing:
“It is what it is.”
As if everything is completely out of their control.

Sure, stuff happened while I was walking my emotional-support dragon—off-leash—in a playground with my head in my phone playing Candy Crush before heading to my ex’s place to key their car… but you know—it is what it is.

We make messes.
We expect the universe to clean it up.

One side shrugs, “It is what it is.”
One side points, “See, karma’s a bitch.”

Seems sort of petty.
I don’t know about you, but I look at that exchange and think—
Maybe karma’s not the bitch around here after all.

Karma: Personal responsibility or cosmic excuse?

We say, “The universe will take care of it,”
as if we’ve forgotten we are the universe.

We preach AbsoluteLove,
then cast karma as some action-flick hit woman
with a cosmic blacklist—
a convenient fiction to keep our hands clean.

But if we paint karma as an assassin for hire,
then we must be the ones writing the checks.

Every time we act, speak, or even hope someone “gets what’s coming”—
we slip another job into her inbox.

Suddenly karma’s not the one keeping score.
We are.

Karmic circles

Why does this keep happening?
The same person in different shoes keeps showing up.
Why do I keep dating them?
The same conflict behind a different face shows up.
Why do I keep arguing with them?

We love to call it “the universe testing us,”
but there’s a common denominator here—
and it’s not the stars, or fate, or Mercury’s latest mood.

It’s you.

Karma isn’t chasing you.
You’re orbiting your own repetition.

The universe isn’t punishing you.
It’s patiently rerunning the same scene
until you realize you’re the one writing the script.

The moment you stop calling it bad luck
and start calling it feedback—
that’s when karma retires from her day job.

You, Not the Universe

So let’s get this straight.
Peace cannot be outsourced.

The second you stop waiting for her to balance the scales,
you become the balance.

It’s time to take ownership of your life.
Don’t be a victim.

Even your crystals are rolling their eyes.

The same hand that points the finger also casts the shadow.

Not fate.
Not justice.
Not her.
Not them.
Us.

Maybe karma’s not the bitch around here after all.

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Text, against swirling lines of yellows and oranges reads: Maybe karma's not the bitch around here.
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