Do you believe in karma?

Cue the Alicia Keys song “’Cause what goes around comes around/
What goes up must come down/ Now who’s crying, desiring to come back to me?
What goes around comes around/What goes up must come down” – Alicia Keys “Karma.”

Today’s WordPress prompt asked a deceptively simple question: Do you believe in karma?

A normal blogger with an ounce of self-preservation would have hit publish on a breezy, three-paragraph meditation about golden rules, returned shopping carts, and positive vibes. A one-word answer “Yes” would have sufficed.

Instead, I sat down, untangled Eastern philosophy, analyzed the cosmic dangers of aggressively non-confrontational pop stars, pulled birth charts on the 2010 rap pantheon, and stared into the metaphysical void.

Let’s unpack the cosmic spreadsheet before I scrap this entire draft for my own safety.

Karma Isn’t a Cosmic Vending Machine

In Western culture, we treat karma like a spiritual drive-thru: you drop in a kind deed, the universe hands you a warm bag of blessings, and if someone cuts you off in traffic, you wait by the curb hoping a deity flattens their tire on the spot. Like no, this is not how any of this works.

Eastern traditions like Hinduism and Buddhism view it less like personal vengeance and more like spiritual gravity an autonomous, inevitable law of cause, effect, and intent. Every action leaves a residue.

Crucially, karma is flanked by concepts like kama, the realm of desire, longing, and how we choose to move through worldly impulses. The friction between desire and consequence is where the universe takes receipts.

Most people assume staying safe means staying quiet. But the universe doesn’t give bonus points for aggressively minding your own business when things go sideways. In the cosmic calculus, aggressive neutrality can rack up just as much debt as active malice.

To illustrate, let’s look at two completely chaotic case studies I definitely shouldn’t be publishing on the internet.

Exhibit A: Nicki Minaj and the Millennial Generational Debt

Enter the Sagitterroist-in-chief.

The early days of Nicki Minaj’s career were a masterclass in the clash between Gen X royalty and Millennial ambition. Gen X elders historically demand respect upon entry, bow your head, kiss the ring, acknowledge the pioneer. Millennials, meanwhile, run on reciprocity: I’ll respect you if you respect me, but I am not bending my knee just because you were here first.

Between Lil’ Kim (Cancer) and Nicki (Sagittarius), the stars never stood a chance. Water and fire: you either lock into a lifelong bond, or you maintain a permanent, on-sight grudge match where crossing paths requires protective headgear.

Nicki used that friction as jet fuel, launching into pop-rap dominance. The universe handed her a massive platform, immense influence, and an explicit test: When the next generation arrives, will you break the cycle, or will you do the exact same thing to them that was done to you?

She picked door number two. Instead of playing the benevolent icon, she doubled down on the fortress mentality, alienating peers and baffling fans while the charts quietly moved along without her. The karmic residue didn’t arrive via lightning bolt; it showed up as fatigue, dwindling goodwill, and lukewarm reactions to tracks that used to set the world on fire. The lesson? If you spend your climb fighting gatekeepers, you cannot become the troll under the bridge when you reach the top without the universe sending an invoice with the due date past due.

Exhibit B: Ed Sheeran and the Perils of the “Nice Guy” Swiss Flag

If Nicki’s karma stems from active conflict, Ed Sheeran’s stems from the illusion of the spotless middle ground. Ed has built a global empire on being universally inoffensive. He plays acoustic loops, smiles politely, and wears hoodies to stadium shows where eighty thousand people sway in unison. He is the human equivalent of unseasoned mashed potatoes: harmless, reliable, and entirely neutral.

Except real life doesn’t always allow for a neutral setting. When serious global issues arise, standing in the exact center and humming softly isn’t a position of virtue, it’s a calculated attempt to protect ticket sales. While other artists drew lines in the sand whether via statements or solidarity moves like Macklemore’s. Ed attempted to hold the middle line.

The karmic punchline for terminal fence-sitters? The middle eventually collapses. When you refuse to stand for anything because you don’t want to offend the venue owners or the promoters, you end up offending everyone who expected a shred of backbone. His traveling band bailed, several artist and fans were disappointed in Ed Sheeran, and the “good guy” sheen wears thin under the weight of not taking a side. Silence has a weight, and eventually, gravity pulls it down.

The Self-Preservation Conclusion

Which brings us back to the prompt: Do you believe in karma?

Deeply. I believe intention dictates residue, that the universe keeps impeccable records, and that trying to cheat the bill by either bulldozing your peers or hiding in the acoustic background will cost you down the road. I also believe in knowing when you’re about to attract your own karmic lightning strike from two hyper-online fanbases and several booking agents.

So on second thought, none of this actually happened. Delete the drafts, clear the cache, and cue the Alicia Keys outro: “’Cause what goes around comes around/
What goes up must come down/ Now who’s crying, desiring to come back to me?
What goes around comes around/What goes up must come down” – Alicia Keys “Karma”

Yes, karma is real. Be kind to others, don’t be bitter, watch your intentions, and return your shopping carts. Yada Yada Yada

 Have a blessed week.

Che Michelle