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.
Yet Another Band-Aid 
Being open to tomorrow’s and, more importantly, today’s possibilities is pretty essential to life, so I hope you’re able to cast off the dreary in favour of the maybe very soon.
Thank you Kath.
Wow. D…this is so beautiful, I’m almost at a loss for words. It worries me to hear that your today is dreary, because you’ve always been such a source of strength during many difficult todays for many others. Don’t forget that your “imaginary” friends are there for you, too, as you have been there for us.
Here’s to the *maybe* lurking just around the corner. And here’s to the launch of your blogging career. It’s about time! 😉
Thanks ear. Hanging tight for the next 10 weeks when the fog should begin to clear at work.