Good Luck, Bad Luck – Who Knows?

By Paula Worthington

he month of March is often celebrated for being “lucky” – There’s St. Patrick’s Day, as well as the long-awaited first day of spring. It’s not lost on us that many are desperately trying to steer their own luck towards the good in a world fraught with changing landscapes, unknown circumstances and unwelcome metaphorical roller coaster rides.

When I face turmoil or a seemingly unending span of “bad luck”, I reflect on a story about an old Zen farmer (included at the bottom of this post) and recognize that my daily actions and reactions are part of a larger journey.

As a leader at Worthington PR & Story, how do I keep my cool while juggling a range of tasks and continuous change?

I approach each day with preparation, curiosity and gratitude, worrying less about the “good” or “bad”, but rather what I can control versus what I can’t control. Snowflakes in March? I might be ready for spring, but instead of complaining about the weather (which is out of my mittened hands anyway), I can pivot and choose to take a Sunday ski day and feel grateful that my soon-to-be-awake garden is getting an extra dose of moisture.

A spirit of gratitude lets me “make my own luck”, no matter what comes my way.

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There once was an old Zen farmer. Every day, the farmer used his horse to help work his fields and keep his farm healthy.

But one day, the horse ran away. All the villagers came by and said, “We’re so sorry to hear this. This is such bad luck.”

But the farmer responded, “Bad luck. Good luck. Who knows?”

The villagers were confused, but decided to ignore him. A few weeks went by and then one afternoon, while the farmer was working outside, he looked up and saw his horse running toward him. But the horse was not alone. The horse was returning to him with a whole herd of horses. So now the farmer had 10 horses to help work his fields.

All the villagers came by to congratulate the farmer and said, “Wow! This is such good luck!”

But the farmer responded, “Good luck. Bad luck. Who knows?

A few weeks later, the farmer’s son came over to visit and help his father work on the farm. While trying to tame one of the horses, the farmer’s son fell and broke his leg.

The villagers came by to commiserate and said, “How awful. This is such bad luck.”

Just as he did the first time, the farmer responded, “Bad luck. Good luck. Who knows?”

A month later, the farmer’s son was still recovering. He wasn’t able to walk or do any manual labor to help his father around the farm.

A regiment of the army came marching through town conscripting every able-bodied young man to join them. When the regiment came to the farmer’s house and saw the young boy’s broken leg, they marched past and left him where he lay.

Of course, all the villagers came by and said, “Amazing! This is such good luck. You’re so fortunate.”

And you know the farmer’s response by now…

“Bad luck. Good luck. Who knows?”