Source: Karen Eden

Inspiration Ovation
By Karen Eden

Jane was a quiet, overweight kid who had the misfortune of attending one of the snobbiest schools in the valley. Her senior year was probably the worse year of her life. Trying to be “cool” at her expense, someone nominated this over 200-pound girl as Homecoming Queen, obviously as a joke.
At first, Jane was beside herself, thinking, I guess, that her warm personality got her the vote. She became very lively and constantly talked about what dress she was planning to wear should she win.
Well, I don't know who finally dropped the bomb on her, but it wasn't pretty. Jane went back into her shell and became fatter than ever.
Poor Jane. If I wasn't such a trodden-down teenager myself, I probably would have said or done something. But that was well before the four black belts I now hold.
So 20 years came and went, and I once again found myself in the presence of that same mischievous group of teenaged boys who once found this prank so humorous. I stood there and smiled. There was justice after all. . .for the fat gods struck back!
That's right. They were all fat. Much fatter than Jane ever was. It's just unfortunate that Jane never wanted to have anything to do with high school again. If only she could see this day. There was fat everywhere! The guys who laughed at her? Fat! The girls who wanted nothing to do with her? Fat! Fat, fat, fat, fat, fat!
That's why I believe in big, fat karma. And I bring this story to mind because I myself am not without blame. Back in my early training days, I remember giggling at my 30-something master because he had such a hard time throwing a high kick during a demonstration.
Now I’m the 30-something master and, at times, my own kicks make me look like I once played for the ‘76 Redskins. What is it? Age? Degeneration? No, it's karma. Making fun of anybody for any reason is just plain ole' bad “ju-ju.” And I've seen it happen time and time again; it most definitely will come back to haunt you.
This reminds me of an old karate joke: “How many martial artists does it take to unscrew a light bulb?” The answer: 101. One to actually unscrew it, and a hundred to stand around and talk about how much better they could have done it.
Why are we like this? It must have something to do with what I call the “wolf-pack” law. We, by nature, tend to scoff at what we view as different, or what we just don't understand all together. Or maybe it's just hard to be happy for someone else who seems to have a stroke of good luck.
Maybe it's not fair that former dancers become huge martial art box-office stars. Maybe it's not fair that you've been an instructor for 20 years, and a 19-year-old black belt down the road is cutting in on your clientele. But we must let it go. We need to be happy for people who somehow find a nugget in this very congested world.
One of the greatest examples I've come across of someone living the good karma life is former heavyweight boxing contender Ron Lyle. Our paths have crossed in the process of trying to make a difference in the lives of less fortunate kids in our community.
In the mid-1970s, Ron Lyle, fresh out of prison, was flagged to be the next heavyweight boxing champ. It was a title that meant fighting the great Muhammad Ali. Ron lost that fight because the refs stopped the match in the 11th round. It was a call that to this day spurs controversy in the history of boxing.
I asked Ron if he was bitter. He said if he saw Muhammad Ali today, he'd hug him. I asked him if he was bitter about a prison sentence that stalled his boxing career by almost a decade. He said prison made him a better person, and gave him the confidence he needed to even get into the ring.
Here's a former athlete who could have spent a lifetime waddling in what most would call “bad luck.” Instead, today he’s a most grateful person, and has made a life of helping other kids stay out of trouble.
In conclusion, it really doesn't matter who's fat, who's successful or who's the champ. What matters is how graciously you've accepted yourself. . .and others.