Good luck? Maybe.

Bad luck? Maybe.

Once upon a time, a peasant had a horse. When the horse ran away, the peasant’s neighbors came to console him for his bad luck. He answered, “Maybe.” 

The next day, the horse came back and with it, six wild horses. The neighbors came to congratulate him on such good luck. The peasant said, “Maybe.” 

The day after, his son tried to ride one of the wild horses. But he was thrown off and broke his leg. Once again, the neighbors shared his misfortune. The peasant said, “Maybe.” 

The day after, soldiers came to conscript the youth of the village. Because of his son’s broken leg the soldiers passed him over. When the neighbors came to congratulate him on his good fortune, the peasant said again, “Maybe.” 

As we see in this story, good luck and bad luck are ever changing, like two sides of a coin flipping back and forth. Whatever we encounter, we need to view it with equanimity, not judge it, and accept it with flexibility.

Every thought is important.

What a delightfully quiet day! There’s lots of work for me to do, but no emergencies popping up in my inbox. An occasional car passes by, but mainly I hear various birds chirping and the seasonal flocks of Canada geese discussing flight plans while flying overhead. No noise to distract me. So, it’s a good day to work.

But with all the quiet (there’s always a but), I’ve been noticing my thoughts. And they haven’t been as admirable as I’d prefer them to be. Nothing too serious. A touch of sarcasm here (when I was trying for wit). A sprinkling of fleeting thoughts there. Of self-satisfaction. Others of frustration. Like I said —nothing overly serious. 

But if such thoughts arise on a good day, little wonder we think the things we do on bad days! The problem on those days is that we fail to notice what we’re thinking until it’s too late. 

So now is an excellent time to practice—when life is peaceful and I can catch and correct myself. Hopefully, I’ll prove better at it on more challenging days.

Giving a possession can be easy. Giving of oneself . . .