Unlucky
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Dear Bolu,
I hope you’re in good spirits, and that the year is going as well as you wished. I hope your troubles aren’t making you lose sleep and if they are, I hope you’re close to vanquishing them. I hope you’re eating at least half as well as you would if your mother still fed you and if you aren’t, I hope you have plans to. There isn’t a lot I have to say so this will be short. Still, I hope you find it a little interesting and if you don’t, forgive me.
I wonder about luck and fortune, and how we’re somewhat slaves to both. A lot happens to us that we don’t bring upon ourselves. We go through situations we never committed to. We negotiate circumstances without the luxurious offer to pass up our participation. The only say we have is how we go through these experiences—our mindset, effort, and courage. Two equivalent people can experience similar situations and their outcomes would differ in part based on how they went through it. Although the attitudes with which we face challenges and brave storms are important, we needn’t dwell on them here because they’re mostly controllable. The circumstances themselves, however, are outside our control and we can only count on luck to get favourable ones.
Have you ever felt extremely lucky? No, don’t tell me about that time you rolled two sixes in the die game or you bet on Leicester City to win the league and they did. It could be, perhaps, a time you attended a class you’ve always missed and the lecturer, for no apparent reason, decided to give a test. It could be you winning the national lottery, surviving a gunshot wound where the bullet missed your heart by a centimetre, or anything else. In the same vein, have you ever felt so unlucky? Again, no, I don’t want to hear about that time you rolled fours in five successive turns when you needed an odd-numbered roll to win the game. Also, I care little for that time you bet on Burnley to give Manchester City a whipping, and Burnley got bludgeoned instead. It could be, perhaps, a time you missed a class you’ve always attended and the lecturer, for no apparent reason, decided to give a test. It could be you winning the national lottery but losing proof that you entered the draw, the fact that you were born without the legs to play the sport you love, or anything else.
You’ve likely had a wonderful tap dance with lady luck—or as some call her, lady favour. Luck. Favour. Chance. Don’t they mean the same thing? You’ve also likely felt wronged by the goddess of fortune—we all have. This cocktail of good and bad luck is one we’re all obliged to drink every day, and this dampens my confidence in the existence of a just spiritual overlord. Our strokes of luck are different, and the highest common factor across all our lives is that we’re Sapiens. How fair is it then that we all go through different circumstances and are yet judged the same? It’s not so fair, is it?
“If you were mine, I’d be the luckiest man alive”, was the thought that birthed this wonder about luck, and I’m still enveloped in it. Who is the luckiest man alive? Who is the luckiest man to ever roam this planet? I took different stabs at these questions but none provided a satisfying fatality. Is he the luckiest, who has all the riches of the world? Is he the luckiest, whose desires always come to pass? Is he the luckiest, who has no desires at all? Is he the luckiest, whose peace never suffers? Is he the luckiest, who feels no pain? Is he the luckiest, whose mind has no thinking capacity? Is he the luckiest, who has known none and is unknown to all? I don’t know. Is there a being who in all his life has never encountered a single stroke of bad luck? I wonder. What might their life look like? Are they ever sick? Did they win the genetics lottery? Is their height optimized for basketball, gymnastics, soccer, and every sport in the known universe? Can they sing perfectly in all notes? Do they win all the lotteries they enter for? When they accidentally fall, is it always as graceful as slow-mo K-drama trip scenes and into a pool of gold? Do they get straight A’s without submitting a paper or sitting in for assessments? When grocery shopping, does the store sell all the items they desire at 100 percent off? Do they ever lose people? When they fall in love, is it with the joint luckiest person alive? I don’t know. They must be quite something, whoever they are.
Somewhere deep in our history, the luckiest man alive existed. Perhaps he still exists. If he does, I’m certain it’s not me. It’s not me because I can’t be with you. But perhaps it’s you. Perhaps you’re the luckiest man alive, dear friend.
Fin.
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Write you soon, merci!
- Wolemercy