“I wish everyone in your family enjoys the feelings you share with me and the others here.” I smile. I gentle smile and nod to her and my representative. I leave a meeting. An Union grievance based upon a horrible boss with a proving problem and little work behind her actions.
“Mr Reynolds! What dies that mean? Are you threatening me?!” Her dark features and grey streaked her look pained by having to ask. Her tension is like spilled water it hangs on and slowly runs off to wherever.
“It’s a simple Irish traditional saying. How you treat people…. Maybe, just do on to others as you would have done on to you, but more it carries to ones around you.” I smile. It’s a traditional curse. The feeling your misery reflects upon the one you care about. Good feeling transfer to others. Bad feeling, much more the same. But from her own hand the curse would flow. It’s only evil in her evil ways on to others. My soul stats pure. Slightly guilty. I had the wrong parents.
“I’m not sure. It sounds bad somehow. Joe, what do you think?” She turns to the union representative.
His eyes are glossed over. The late middle age man in him wishes to be left out of this. He had enough. A bad start to a new way. It’s the same all over again and again. Management is hopeless. “Look, he says it’s a traditional saying. He didn’t wish you dead. There was no threat against you. If I heard it right, you actions should be what your want your family to experience. That’s what you meant, right Mr Reynolds?!”
I pick up the hint quickly. “No harm to you. It’s a traditional. I’m a little nervous…second week and all of this. It stinks of bad karma, there are foul feelings in the air. You both wouldn’t understand. I’m rural person…farm thoughts still run through me. You are city folk. You complicate. Can’t see the world, just the clutter that gets in the way.”
I stare blankly at the two. They are lost in details. The details mean nothing. Numbers tell a story of nothing. They build walls and a room to hold issues that are homeless for a reason. “Why do they invite them in. The details are vampires to suck the soul dry. Worry fills the void in where the soul once resided. Poor bastards!” I speak to myself.
The curse is simple. Do harm for the sake of harm and your family absorbs the pain. Exactly as you dish it out. It appears as no rhyme or reason, but there are both. Be careful when dealing with others. A curse is not a curse, some need only be accepted as nothing to worry about.