.. It doesnt exist. Sorry. It just doesnt. You either bring good things into your life by your thoughts and actions, focusing on your instinct and intentions to create and build the life you desire, or you ignore those things. You shut off the inner voice, ignore history and all the other things that teach us that amazing phrase "now I know better" and repeat mistakes only to be surprised when you have something happen to you that isnt quite what you desired.
The final lasting permament revelation of this truth was provided, as all eternal truths are, by a status update on facebook the other day. It went something like this:
"During a torrential downpour I went outside to secure a loose downspout on my house and fell and broke my ankle-- I have the worst luck."
To my friend who experienced this, I feel bad for you I really do and I hope you have a fast recovery. If we lived closer I'd bring you food every day and help in anyway I could.
But I have to say I think something other than luck is at work here. The odd thing is how many of us do this-- paint luck as this great external force that controls our destiny-- more than God or ourselves. More than a few souls I have encountered along the way lay the blame for everything good or bad that has ever happened at the feet of luck, apparently satisifed at what little role they have in the play of their own lives.
Perhaps the words of Richard Bach offer a lesson here for all of us, who even occasionlly, fall into the luck trap:
"If it's never your fault, you can't take responsibility for it. If you can't take responsibility for it, you'll always be it's victim"
From Messiah's Handbook- Reminders for the Advanced Soul (c) 2004
Observations, essays, ramblings, thoughts and more from a slightly reformed New Yorker who has returned home to Ohio. A spiritual person having a human experience, writer, photographer, and public safety professional.
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Tuesday, September 6, 2011
Sunday, September 4, 2011
A Great Night Out..
Just had to say a few words about a great night out last night that speaks to the beauty of this place I call home and the power of connections. It was my great honor to show around a new friend, Laura, who is in town for the Police-Fire Games. A firefighter from London, she met one of my coworkers through other friends and, when she asked about gay clubs, was immediately referred to me for guidance. Can't possibly imagine why. This led to use meeting at Chat and Chew Last night for dinner, along with another newer friend of mine (who is originally from Colombia).
Following a dinner of Roasted Turkey (me) and thirty-six pounds of fried chicken we stopped by Old Town for a pint or two. Horror of Horrors- to find that my nice English girls favorite beer is.. well... Budweiser??!! I was drinking Guinness of course.. Fernando had a Long Island Ice Tea. After some exposure to the surly bartender, we made our way the Rodeo Bar. (The NYC country music institution) for whoever happened to be there. It was the exceptional rockabilly band The LoneSharks- a Long Island based act that should be performing in far larger venues, probably ones that charge a cover. However, it was at the bar, having another Guinness, with the Colombian and the English Lesbian firefighter, that it struck me just how amazing things can truly be. As the band belted out Cash's "get Rhythm" and I tapped with the beat, a large group came to the bar to get their drinks. I assumed they were from India (based on the headgear and attire) and smiled even more broadly-- that at that precise moment I was in the midst of the most diverse possible place on the planet. The only thing missing was a penguin and we would have had cultural overload.
After Rodeo, as all good things must come to an end so you can find something better, we took off for the east village. Sparked by the glee in Laura's eyes when I asked "What do you think about 80s Music" we made our way to the Pyramid-- to spend over an hour on the dance floor as a crowd ranging in age from 21 to well over 70 bounced and moved to Rick Astley, Blondie; and more. The only missed element was Culture Club on the gay 80s dance checklist.
Exhausted from fun, we bounced out of the club and towards the car. I dropped Laura off, then my other friend, and made my way home. Across the Brooklyn Bridge, and past all the other symbols of what makes NYC such a place-- Statues, islands, and the like. The things the kids in Missouri, or Kentucky or Oregon read about and plan their high school visits around. But for me, what makes this place great, what makes my life great, is a pint of beer in an old old bar; some rockabilly music as summer fades into fall; a good meal and melt in your mouth red velvet cake; and the people who I have come to share this place with. Some new, some old; some well known; some only passing in a bar- but all reflections of the miracle that lifecan be is when you just take some time to live it.
Following a dinner of Roasted Turkey (me) and thirty-six pounds of fried chicken we stopped by Old Town for a pint or two. Horror of Horrors- to find that my nice English girls favorite beer is.. well... Budweiser??!! I was drinking Guinness of course.. Fernando had a Long Island Ice Tea. After some exposure to the surly bartender, we made our way the Rodeo Bar. (The NYC country music institution) for whoever happened to be there. It was the exceptional rockabilly band The LoneSharks- a Long Island based act that should be performing in far larger venues, probably ones that charge a cover. However, it was at the bar, having another Guinness, with the Colombian and the English Lesbian firefighter, that it struck me just how amazing things can truly be. As the band belted out Cash's "get Rhythm" and I tapped with the beat, a large group came to the bar to get their drinks. I assumed they were from India (based on the headgear and attire) and smiled even more broadly-- that at that precise moment I was in the midst of the most diverse possible place on the planet. The only thing missing was a penguin and we would have had cultural overload.
After Rodeo, as all good things must come to an end so you can find something better, we took off for the east village. Sparked by the glee in Laura's eyes when I asked "What do you think about 80s Music" we made our way to the Pyramid-- to spend over an hour on the dance floor as a crowd ranging in age from 21 to well over 70 bounced and moved to Rick Astley, Blondie; and more. The only missed element was Culture Club on the gay 80s dance checklist.
Exhausted from fun, we bounced out of the club and towards the car. I dropped Laura off, then my other friend, and made my way home. Across the Brooklyn Bridge, and past all the other symbols of what makes NYC such a place-- Statues, islands, and the like. The things the kids in Missouri, or Kentucky or Oregon read about and plan their high school visits around. But for me, what makes this place great, what makes my life great, is a pint of beer in an old old bar; some rockabilly music as summer fades into fall; a good meal and melt in your mouth red velvet cake; and the people who I have come to share this place with. Some new, some old; some well known; some only passing in a bar- but all reflections of the miracle that life
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