Twice on Wednesday I found myself talking to someone about how lucky I am. The first time, I was sitting on the back of my horse, talking to my friend and trainer, Gayle, about how my experience with Tank has been one of the best things in my whole life. We talked about how lucky I feel first to even own a horse, and also to have one that I’ve been able to bond with so closely. I mentioned that my life is so much better than I ever imagined it being. Though I was speaking out of the emotion of the moment, glossing over the pain and emotional storms I’ve weathered, it is true that I am lucky. If I started to list the struggles and problems of my life, that lucky feeling would certainly fade. It was then that I realized it’s my choice what version of my life to dwell on, and ultimately my choice whether I feel “lucky” or not.
In the second instance, I had emailed my friend Laure an image of some sketchbook pages I loved, expressing a desire to have my sketchbook resemble them. We emailed back and forth about developing artistic style, and I finished one email with, “I’m lucky to have some lovely artists to be influenced by, aren’t I?” While I’m still learning the basics of drawing and painting, let alone working on my “style,” between the support and encouragement of my friends (my classmates in Laure’s classes as well as Laure herself) and the wealth of material available in books and online, I have the ability to enjoy and learn from many different artists. I can’t help but be inspired. This may seem like an insignificant matter to feel lucky about—but isn’t life made up of “insignificant matters”?
Coincidentally, we have a new resident at our barn, a tiny, elderly pony whose name is Lucky. Poor Lucky was essentially starving to death because his previous owners (well-meaning but ignorant) didn’t realize the condition of his teeth made it impossible for him to eat normally—his food needs to be soaked into soupiness. Aside from his thinness and the neglect of his hooves and coat, he seems healthy. He’s lucky to have been found by caring people who hope to help him, and a vet who is willing to take on some of his care without compensation. With any luck, he’ll live out his life in comfort, being spoiled by the girls (and the adults) at the barn.
|Lucky doing what he does best|
I guess what I’m trying to say is that feeling lucky is to some degree a matter of perspective, acknowledging the negatives but choosing to focus more on the positives. It’s part of my “Catching Happiness” philosophy, when I remember to live by it.
What makes you feel lucky?