Experiment: The Luck Project

It has been a goal of mine, for some time now, to practice living gratefully on a daily basis. Thus it  seemed natural that I would want to decide whether or not there is anything to be even grateful for in the first place. It is like that question one throws at one’s parent(s), at that teen age when one is allowed to be a proper monster. So one may say something like; “Well I did not ask you to birth me, did I? For all I know you and your lover were having a grand time and I just sort of happened, didn’t I? But you chose to keep me! Didn’t you? So forgive me, pretty please, if I am a disappointment. I am therefore not entirely to blame, am I? You share the blame in a few things like: 1, choosing to have sex, and 2, choosing to birth me, and 3, choosing to think I would not be a disappointment to you!” Right. >:) But sooner or later one must admit that there is a bit of a catch to this sort of blame sharing. And this is the question of why one chooses to live. Yes, life is gifted one, and perhaps one has little say in the matter––some argue that it is that which has the strongest desire to live that lives––but once here, in this world, one can always jump off of a skyscraper, or something, and paint the pavements with one’s guts. Yet so many do not off themselves. In fact, so many do not even want to die! So perhaps the reason why so many of us choose to live is because something in us know that life is priceless; perhaps we do not only choose love, love also chooses us. Hence we are here because we desire love and because we appeal to love. For life is love’s birthing. Thus that which lives is that which springs from love, i.e., that which is composed from love and is of love. And this is what the lucky project entails, in a sense. The experiment is based on the theory that what one truly is, is that which is extremely beautiful and to allow one’s self to come to terms with one’s beauty is a purpose of life. This is not about narcissism or selfishness. But in order to become one’s self, one must believe in what one is, which is the gift of grace. And if all one is, is grace’s mercy, then all one is, is a blessing. In other words, all one is, is lucky. This means then that whether one believes oneself lucky or not, one is lucky. The thing is, the only way one can actually come into what one is, is to accept what one is, even before one knows what that is. Hence, although one is indeed lucky, one can only be truly lucky when one comes to the understanding, acceptance, and practice of being lucky.

It was not an intention to go lucky in 2016. Yet when the idea presented itself, I became excited to follow through with it. It had loads to do with the thesis paper I finished earlier this year. It trickled down thought-streams on questions and theories on the place of pain in love. The point of my lucky project has not been to arrive at the point of pain. For reasons yet still unknown to me I came to learn to think of pain not as foe but as friend. Pain is something I expect to always be there and yet something I believe cannot overcome one, if one does not wish for it to overcome them. Hence my interest in pain is not for the fact that it drags one very low, but rather that one can somehow, and I don’t know how, survive it and be so much the better because of it. It seems that pain gives one so much, and all that it takes from one is that which one needs to let go of.

Now, let’s get a few things straightened as crookedly as possible. Being lucky does not mean you won’t get cancer and die. Knowing yourself to be lucky is knowing you are probably going to get cancer and die. But it is not, “oh poor me, I am going to get cancer and die!” but rather “Wow! I get to get cancer and die!” Ridiculous, no? What I am saying is that you learn to love the seemingly bad just as much as the seemingly good. In other words, being lucky is knowing that whatever happens contains what is necessary to discover yourself. So today when you woke up to a few painful and ugly blisters crowning a small section of your lips, you go to the mirror and croon to them. You do, also, go for a walk, to make sure your little cold sores get some fine oxygen. And when you talk to people, you do not apologize for your ugly blisters. I mean come on! They are only visiting for about a week or two, so you ought to try and be a fantastic host, no? Besides, you never even payed that much attention to the portion of your lips until the herpes virus decided to come out and play on that little corner of your mouth. And let us not even go into the real reason why the blisters are upon you. Chances are you have been very horrible to your body––not taking very good care of yourself, and thus forced your body to respond in a similar way.

Being lucky is knowing that everything has some good in it. I am not making sense am I? If so, that is also the point. It is all good. Being lucky is knowing that you do not know what actually makes sense. That everything is working in your favor whether it is obvious to you or not. It is trusting that things are always working the best way they possibly can. That you are always just where you need to be, and getting exactly what you should be getting. This means envy and jealousy is really a waste of your energy and time. There really is nothing to envy, and no one to envy. You are a particularly beautiful being and there is no one out there like you. And you have been created uniquely and perfectly in this manner and no other self would suit you other than that which is gifted you. So there is no need to want to be anyone else, nor to posses what another possesses because what you have is everything that you should have. Anything else is the wrong fit. Anything else takes you away from drilling down into yourself. Obviously, in order to practice being lucky, one must practice falling in love with oneself. Again, I am not talking about selfishness. Selfishness is not love, it springs from the fear that there is not enough. But there is enough and there will always be enough. Selfishness comes from the belief that one ought to compete with others, and thus place oneself above others. A distraction from what is actually important, you. You, the only being that you have true intimacy with on a daily basis. The only being that carries you everywhere, the only being that you will always be, with or without body. The goal is to get to know this being, to love this being and realize how lucky you are to be this being. It seems to me that when one starts to learn to love oneself, everyone is interesting, too, some more so than others; and yet one never meets anyone that one would rather be. One yearns to learn from others; one is curious about how others see; one is inspired by others; and one learns that the ways in which we travel into our selves are varied. But at the end of the day the only thing that one wants to really be is one’s self.

There were a few interesting things I learned in this experiment of going lucky––yes, I am fully aware that I have not really explained things as I ought to, but the thing is, this was not a planned experiment. It was something that sort of happened outside record––once I started claiming to be lucky, at first not very confidently, then later, with some conviction, I started losing a lot of seemingly important things. Seemingly important because that is all they were: seemingly important. Not really important. Some of my favorite people started giving me the cold shoulders. Some started looking at me with much pity and worry. Then came those who knew the way and knew what is best for me to try to help me live realistically and stop with the weird nonsense already. But the funny thing is I could not be really angry with anyone, for it became easier to see things through others perspectives. And to understand that, I too would probably do exactly what they were doing had I been them. But here is the thing, would you settle for glitter when you can have gold? I have always thought myself happy, but this year I have been even more happier than I have ever known myself to be. I find myself forgiving more easily; not immediately claiming a situation to be good or bad; trying a little harder to live truthfully. And it is becoming easier to see beauty often. I even celebrated Christmas, fearlessly! And the thing is I have never felt luckier! When I started the experiment I did not really believe that I was lucky. Now I am entirely convinced that I am. It does not mean that if I wake up tomorrow and find out that I have cancer I would say "Wow! Lucky me!" But it means that I am getting better at going to events with some curiosity and trying to see them through varied lenses rather than assuming that the seemingly good is solid gold and the seeminly bad, glitter. I look back into my past and everything bad that has ever happened to me, has brought me much good in time. So how can I now claim that pain is useless?

Being lucky, however, does not mean staying in bed all day long and blowing complaint bubbles about how much life sucks! Life sucks, yes! Life sucks, of course! But life sucks bittersweetly, or if you like, sourly. Life sucks only what it can suck from you, never too much, never too little. And here is another way I like to think of it, life only sucks the poison and leaves one with the good. To only focus on the feel of its sucking and not all the good that it pumps into us is to deny ourselves the whole picture. Thus one feels limited and thus think oneself to be capable of less than what one actually can. This bars us from living gratefully and therefore not attempting to live fully; that is to try and discover, on a daily basis, what our potentials are. One concludes that one knows exactly what one is and what one is capable of, and therefore, one becomes limited to a definition that cages one from actually digging down to find out all the surprises existing in one. When all one can think of is the sucking aspect of life, and refuse to even appreciate the pleasure that this sucking can give, one ceases to follow one’s heart, fearlessly. Thus one is not motivated to work happily, like a freaking slave, to discover one’s secrets. So one chooses, in a sense, to live in misery, see misery everywhere, take pleasure in misery, and refuse to listen to anything that is not miserable. Thus when one drops one’s  body and every material thing that one thought oneself in possession of, one does not do so in joy but in misery. Living luckily is living joyfully and perishing in delight.

This year I was that annoying fly that went buzzing about to everyone that not only am I very lucky, but that they too are are equally as lucky. You would think people would be happy to hear you claim yourself lucky, but that was not the response I got most of the time. Apparently, to admit oneself to be lucky is another way of saying; “Hello mate! I’m that fool that fortune favors! Help me see the awful things in life so I can become ashamed of my foolishness; or, throw unkind words at me so I too can learn to be properly sane.” It seems that some people do not want anyone coming to tell them that they are lucky. It is to them a cruel boast––a most insensitive thing to do to another person. Like how dare you come, and throw in my face your good fortune? Can you not see that I am at the other end of things? That I am the  plow donkey that never gets a break, even when it is dying? And your insisting that I am lucky goes to show how naïve you are. How dare you come into my life, knowing nothing about my struggles, and dare say to me that I am lucky? Of course these questions are often rhetorical. Those who ask them often do not really intend to know what you could possibly mean by their being lucky. They seem to think that they need you to understand that you do not understand. Up until quite recently, whenever someone would say to me that I was lucky, I often felt as though I was being insulted. I wanted to go into a full speech about my being that plow donkey; that I work so hard, my middle name is ‘Been-Working-So-Hard.’ :P But I am of the mind that my current depth of happiness has much to do with my luck experiment. One has got to make some tough decisions in life and I would rather do that which renders me happily at home in myself––for better or for worse.

The theory that one is lucky is thus a tricky one. For it seems many want only to be secretly lucky. That is, to be lucky without ever having to admit it either to self or other. Thus although many seem to wish to be lucky, several are offended when defined as such. However, all we are is lucky, and only when we can understand this and admit to being so can we actually enjoy the awesomeness of such a station. Hence to refuse one’s luck is like running in place, no matter how fast one runs one always remains in the same place. However, to accept our lucky status is to float merrily about. Beautiful things seemed to happen, so ever often, to me when I started trying to accept my luck. Every day felt a lot more magical and it was hard to not go about with a smile on my face. This is not because we are deserving of anything. It is my opinion that we deserve nothing. But we are because of love's choosing, and it seems that it is love's will that we have only the very best. Thus anything less than the absolute beautiful is insufficient. Hence to know oneself to be lucky, is to know that one holds within oneself the most beautiful and that one is made to be one with this entity.
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j

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