Allegory of the Playground

The definition of luck is: a combination of events, etc., operating by chance to bring good or ill to a person.

Attaining luck is finding a way to live harmoniously with your surroundings and believing in their ability to get better.

A month ago I was at a playground with a friend and made a study in my mind about our overall philosophical differences in relation to points of focus on the playground instruments. These differences are attributed to our "luck" in our lives and its consequences on our personality and the way we think. There was this balance beam that rocked back and forth depending upon where the weight of your body was distributed. As I watched my friend on this beam, I noticed that all of his brain activity, all of the motions occurring before me, were focused directly to staying on the beam. Whereas, when I was on the beam, my mind was first focused on balancing, but the moment the beam shifted to throw off my balance, my thought process then shifted with it so that it began analyzing the best way to fall in order not to be harmed. This could be seen in my body language as automatically when I lost my balance, my entire body shifted its weight. Not to the other side of the beam (this would be the correct thing to do if I had wanted to stay on) but to the ground and how I was to get there softly.

To my friend, it didn't matter that his balance had been thrown off; he took it one step at a time. Undoubtedly he could fall harder, but his victory lies in the point of the exercise: to stay on the beam. I, rather selfishly, abandoned that plan and jumped off when it was safe. This is the difference in the way we produce our luck.

See, on that beam my friend appears to be luckier than I am, for he had ultimately defeated that exercise. He didn't plan, he launched himself into it and took it one step at a time. Sure, there were probably a few seconds here and there where his thoughts were interrupted by the inevitable belief that he was about to fall, but for the most part, his energy was primarily spent on staying on the beam. When he did fall, by then it didn't matter. It was a surprise, but he still went back on the beam to master the mistake. I, rather, cheated the exercise in my own way, as have I in many life endeavors. Instead of my victory being in the object of the game, I merely survived the game and there lies a personal victory, one of satisfaction and safety. Since I focused my energy on how to avoid the injuries associated, planning every step and every move so that it would produce the least amount of pain, ultimately I have lost.

No one should ever plan things in life. That is my personal failure, I'm afraid I've always been too much of a convinced dreamer, believing that doing the safe things would make those dreams come true, therefore planning. See, chances are, your plans will change around you and all of a sudden you'll be sitting there wondering why the hell you can't be lucky like the rest of the world. You're not on that beam anymore, that's why. You're not using the playground. That's what it's there for. Use it. A word of caution, be weary of the ones who plan to fall, it's probably because they've fallen hard one too many times. Still, they can never actually see the pain that is out there for them. They're too busy planning. For the fortunate planners, be sure to realize that eventually, gravity can and will catch up to you.

I'm taking a break. Chilling on a swing for a while. I'm choosing an option not considered before, pursuing something with interest in the subject area and grasping the hand of someone who will undoubtedly bite back. I figure though, if I hold on to the ones that don't bite, pick and choose the people to hang on to, the ones that really matter to me and that are actually important, someday I won't have to worry about falling. I can have so many spotters. I'm probably going to choose to jump off this swing every now and then, and I know the fall will hurt, but maybe since I know what's coming, it can't hurt as much. Or maybe, as Benjamin Button said, "you never know what's coming for you."

So I suppose this thought is to be continued until I choose to return to that balance beam. This time going at it with the mind of a child but the heart of an old lady.