You stand there:
the edge of a cliff, waiting for the final gust of wind to come along and
knock you over. And it comes, and in the same second,
karma swells up from the void, warmly caresses your face as it sends you
bouncing back, a little further from
the edge. Or is it karma? Does such a
force exist?
Maybe, unconsciously, we spend our lives weaving some
kludgy safety net. Though not an overt attempt to save ourselves from known
harm, it somehow is
there, at precisely the moment it's needed, granting temporary
salvation.
We call ourselves
lucky.
But there's something more than
coincidence there. You have no food and the men from the cafeteria decide to bring you a whole pizza because they've made one too many, and so you're not hungry. And
tracing it back, you can't think of anything you've done for them, though you're always nice and they know you and where you work. Or you've given up every
ambition of going to school, but two weeks before classes begin, you telephone one last time, to make sure there's
no hope.. And they tell you you're accepted, to pack your things and the letter was lost in the mail. Boom.
180.
Somewhere behind the present,
a butterfly flapped its wings and set things in motion, things you didn't see and cannot trace in
hindsight. Or maybe
circumstances just aligned,
just in time, so what you needed was there a second before you collapsed. And
it happens every time, making it hard to feel the weight of
mistakes because you don't suffer the
consequences, only the fear of them.
And we call ourselves lucky.
And we wonder, if it's only
luck, when it will run out.