Nov 29 2008
Unlucky at Love, Lucky at Luck
The Good | What Do I Do With All This Luck?
One of my more annoying habits, I hear, is that I always make the distinction between luck and fortune. I don’t buy into the Conversations with God books wholeheartedly, especially when the book’s “God” character and in real life the author himself say not to, but one of them includes a section where the former talks about being blamed for only the really yucky situations in life.
To paraphrase the idea, when someone wins the lottery or meets the partner of their dreams, they say to themselves, “Boy, am I lucky” but when a tornado ends a hundred lives it’s called an “act of God.” In other words, the being assigned as the figurehead of all Love is an evil rock monster, and it is the benefit of this mysterious force known as chance that allows anything good to happen in the world.
That’s not awkward at all.
Anyway, I borrowed the general notion because it made sense to me. I never explain it like that to people, though. I don’t even bring God into it. Luck sounds frivolous, and fortune sounds more grounded, like it’s a result on at least some level of your choices and your circumstance. If lightning struck twice, it was because you were carrying a rod. That’s the basic idea.
Today I won a gift card at a video arcade, was treated for no real reason to my favorite meal at one of my favorite wing restaurants (which we generally avoid for frugality and health reasons), and even got to window shop with the card for all sorts of goodies I’d never get for myself. It’s the sort of day you wish would happen, especially on a nasty day, and it happened to me, on what was already a fairly good day.
I won’t say “Why me?” That’d ruin it. I’ll enjoy it. I am enjoying it and I have enjoyed it. However, a part of me remains curious if I can’t help but be in shock and lose some of the value of it all. If the goodness keeps on rolling, is there a way to not take it for granted?
These are all things that add and cannot subtract, and therefore usually act as bandages. I have the outstanding fortune to not have to worry about going hungry, so it’s not like I wake up some days with the possibility of food being taken away, or being forced to eat things I don’t like. At this point, too, it’d be hard to take away money or prizes. Most everything I own is a gift.
Perhaps I should take my own advice and not question it. I just don’t want to forget today when I need today more than I needed today today.
