The Majesty of Spring

Parachutes open overhead as waves of paratroops land in Holland during operations by the 1st Allied Airborne Army., 09/1944 Photo courtesy of the U.S. National Archives

As I walked my kindergartener to the bus stop this morning, a lone helicopter seed from my neighbor’s maple tree lightly wound its way to the ground in front of us. My daughter laughed and asked, “Daddy, did you see that? I love those seeds.”

I laughed along with her and replied that I, too, saw that and loved those seeds. Then I pointed up to the treetops to show her the thousands of seeds dangling from the maple trees just waiting for their turn to take flight. And as she looked up, a big gust of wind hit the maple trees. At once the skies filled with hundreds of helicopter seeds gracefully descending like WWII paratroopers in those old newsreels.

We must have stood there a good thirty seconds, heads turned skyward, watching the many paths taken to the ground. Were it not for the low rumbling of an engine breaking our trance as the bus turned the corner onto our street, I imagine us being caught in the moment for a very long time.

The simplicity of nature’s design on display. Another lesson in the majesty of spring.

Luck

Last night’s episode of Miami Medical featured a “lucky” patient named Fortunato (the word itself means fortunate in Italian). Our “lucky” patient is caught inside a large wedding tent when a microburst of wind tears apart the tent and sends a metal pole through his body, entering from his right shoulder and extending through his left flank just above his hip. Throughout the episode we learn of Fortunato’s life, and how many episodes of bad luck in his life have silver linings or lead to better fortune. And this accident is no different. As the doctors near the end of a highly successful thoracic surgery to repair the internal damage caused by the pole, they discover an arteriovenous malformation near Fortunato’s lung – a ticking timebomb that would take his life when, not if, it burst. Out of misfortune, Fortunato finds luck once more.

Fortunato’s tale instantly reminded me of a classic zen koan:

A farmer’s horse ran away. His neighbors gathered upon hearing the news and said sympathetically, “That’s such bad luck.”

“Maybe,” the farmer replied.

The horse returned on his own the next morning, and brought seven wild horses with it. “Look how many more horses you have now,” the neighbors exclaimed. “How lucky!”

“Maybe,” the farmer replied.

The next day, the farmer’s son attempted to ride one of the wild horses, was thrown, and broke his leg. “How awful,” the neighbors said. “It looks like your luck has turned for the worse again.”

The farmer simply replied, “Maybe.”

The following day, military officers came to town to conscript young men into the service to go to war. Seeing the son’s broken leg, they rejected him. The neighbors gathered round the farmer to tell him how fortunate he was.

“Maybe,” said the farmer.

Our view of luck is oftentimes an instant snapshot in time. But as we accumulate snapshots over time, the slideshow of life may reveal a new narrative. The luck of our yesterdays – both good and bad – gains greater context through the experiences of our today and our tomorrows.

The nature of life unfolds in many ways. The outcomes can not be known with absolute certainty. The closing of a door need not signify the end, but may usher us toward a path otherwise unseen.

The view of my today, both personally and professionally, is dreary in almost any objective regard. The certainty of my “now” feels so bad that it makes it extremely difficult to remain open to the possibilities I may be afforded tomorrow.

Here’s to hoping I find the maybe in my life.