Making a deposit at the Bank of Karma

By Bryan McKenzie

Published: June 15, 2008

I just made a deposit in my spiritual future.

Stopped in the left turn lane at U.S. 29 and Hydraulic Road, I saw two panhandlers. Just as my light turned green, in an act of spontaneous kindness, I pressed into one man’s hand 85 cents.

It may seem like a mere 85 cents, but the Bank of Karma doesn’t act like Mammon’s Bank. It doesn’t take your $10 deposit and charge $5 for the honor of holding your money, making $100 off the $5 they stole and $200 off the $5 they’re holding for you. In the Bank of Karma, you gain or lose depending on your actions and your motivations.

In karmic accounting, my deposit doubled to $1.70 because these people were not socially acceptable. The act wasn’t like giving to the SPCA or buying Girl Scout cookies, and the money likely will not go to a noble cause, yet I gave without hope of a receipt for tax purposes.

Double the kindness

Karmic rules doubled my deposit to $3.40 because I was kind despite being fully aware that the pretenses under which the money was solicited were likely patently false.

You see, they held a sign that read, “Stranded. Out of gas. Anything you can give will help.” I was sure I’d seen these folks around and doubted that they had a car or needed gas. Still, I appreciated that they were savvy enough to tap into sentiments to which most drivers could relate, even if untrue.

My account deposit was compounded by 20 percent — to $4.08 — because I fully appreciated the fact that the men were in a worse spot than I. Sure, I need money. Sure, I’m trying to find ways to increase my income to match my outflow, but these guys were out begging on a busy intersection, exposing themselves to hatred, ridicule and the asinine “get a job” from total idiots.

I felt lucky to not need to beg. They obviously needed my 85 cents more than I did.

Favorable rules

Karmic rules are very kind to the depositor, and my account doubled yet again because the sum of all the money in my pockets, car or wallet totaled 85 cents. I couldn’t give them any more, although I could have given them less.

Because the original 85 cents was earmarked for a specific purchase and I did not hesitate to give it, my deposit doubled to $8.16. It went up another 100 percent to $16.32 because that pre-determined purchase was one designed to provide me comfort and succor — a pack of Pop-Tarts at midday — to relieve the stress of deadlines and searching out subject matter.

Those 85 cents had personal meaning and attachment, yet I gave them freely.

As you can imagine, I am now feeling pretty darn good that my sudden, if rare, act of kindness earned me not just my original 85 cents but nearly 20-fold that in spiritual attaboys.

Now if I can just beg 85 cents off someone for a pack of Pop-Tarts, my life will be complete.