"LUCK", by Stephanie

I don't believe in Luck. Good luck, bad luck: I've found myself falling into both categories without perceiving it as "luck" per se. The events that encourage, bombard, whisper, promise, deny, appear in dreams, are all part of the larger wholesomeness of life itself. That we have given these forces the name 'luck' is curious and most probably something that our ancestors referred to as a need to explain what could not be easily understood. There is still the same need to identify and define, unexplainable mysteries remain and shall always exist in everyday life.

Good and Bad happen all the time, every day, in all settings. Is this due to luck? Is it due to nature and our small standing in the universe? Is it just random junk that rains down? What to we do with it? ... turn it into an opportunity, or recoil from it damningly? It all depends on our outlook, background, previous encounter(s), whereby we mold it into what it becomes, if we can. Sometimes it feels as though we are getting some kind of divine assistance or help from an unknown source. And we give thanks, gratitude and feel "lucky." Sometimes it feels as though we are marked and something or someone is simply out to get us, and we ask "why?" I like that we're here for such a short time really, and whatever comes is relative to what happens to the next person. Our grumblings about being unlucky may be something deeply wished for by another. Our good fortunes may be small change to another type of person elsewhere.

Luck is a kind of reference made up in our mind that shoots us through all kinds of opportunity or obstacle. We may "feel" lucky or unlucky, which is a fleeting period of time. The next moment will bring us a new and oddly different series of thoughts. It's a remarkable facet of living that so much is set before us and that we have to sort it out in our own particular way! Seneca wrote that “Luck is what happens when preparation meets opportunity.” So it comes from US. It's a recipe. Go out and make your own luck! In this, I do believe.

"Nice to Meet You", by Emily Nudge

I was born in 1971. I am 37 years old. I have met a lot of people in my life. I have been to many places and have interacted with many different types of people, both young and old. I am blessed with having been influenced by many and have had the honor of influencing many on my own.

Sometimes I will see someone who recognizes me. They will say, "Hello Emily!" I will look at them with a blank stare and wonder how they know me. I will have no recollection of when we might have interacted long enough for them to remember my name; let alone remember my name in connection with who I am physically. I will say "hello" back to them and try to not have a conversation with them for fear of showing that I have no idea who they are.

However if I know that our paths will cross numerous times after this first encounter I'll fess up right away that I do not remember them or how we meet. The person will inform me and I'll have to trust them that they know what they are talking about. Most of the time I'll do some research and figure out that what they say is indeed true. I'll ask around or look in a photo album from that time period and sure enough there they are.

I wish this phenomenon wasn't the case – I wish I remembered more people who have walked the same path as me. I know that if I saw someone who worked with me in 1989 at Camp Hoover I'd have a hard time remembering his or her name. I know that if I crossed paths with someone from college I'd not know who they were at all. I know this.

I also know that there are many people I remember and when we see each other I try to make eye contact with me and I can see in their eyes that they know who I am but refuse to acknowledge me. They look away and the line of the mouth changes as if they are holding back what they might want to say. They quickly get busy with what they are doing so they don't have to look back. I try to keep looking at them so that if there is a chance they want to change their minds that I am there to receive them but this never happens. I know that sometimes the past is best left in the past.

I firmly believe that humans cross paths for a purpose. Our journey as a human on this planet does things for each other. My interactions with one person might cross someone else's path when I'm not even physically there. I know that we smile and cry and kiss and hug and stumble with each other or against each other and that all this makes an impact on our lives.