Writing Exercise
4: Write a paragraph or two that you
would write to somebody who is down on their luck.
“I wanna see how lucky, Lucky can be.” – Melissa Etheridge
If anyone were to assess my life right now, they would probably
say that I am one lucky man. I drive
a nice car that is almost paid off. I
live with my son, Blair, in a comfortable converted two-bedroom apartment with
a view of a garden and a laundry center in the basement. Certification for adopting Blair a few years
ago was seamless and hassle free. I
enjoy my work as a professor in the building around the corner from my home. I use credit cards to pay for most things; and
I have money in the bank to pay them off regularly. I see my loving and kind dad about once a
week for dim sum in Westchester, and have a pleasant relationship with my
siblings (Rosalie and Michael). I dance
often at home and at the Big Apple Ranch with other amazing dancers. I am pretty fit, smart, and know how to give
and receive love. How lucky can a guy
be?
Well, oddly enough, I don’t believe in luck, at least not in
the romanticized version of it. As it
is, my life was designed and constructed carefully. Hard work and perseverance is what manifested
this fortunate life. Luck, as I define
it, is a state of mind, not something that happens upon a person.
For those who are “down on their luck,” that may be hard to read. So, I would like to share with you that my
life was not always like this. I
remember living in a tiny cramped basement apartment eating ramen noodles and
rice with ketchup to get by on the little money I was making as a bus boy to
pay rent. This was over 2 decades
ago. If luck were real, I was certainly
down on my luck.
I was a 17 years old high school student living on my own,
and I felt like the world was either picking on me or forgetting about me. Although I was such a goodie, as I didn’t
smoke, drink or do any drugs, I was miserable.
I worked hard during the day with school and work, or trying to find
work. At night, I cried myself to sleep
wishing things would change. I begged, my then Christian, God to make my life
easier, but He could not hear me through the dark wood paneled walls and musky basement
air.
I remember one night, after brushing my teeth in the closet
sized bathroom, I leaned the weight of my scrawny teenage frame on the sink and
stared into my own sad eyes in the mirror.
I told myself that I was going to be ok.
I didn’t need God to believe in me.
I didn’t need anyone to believe in me.
I have been getting by on my own, and I can continue to do this indefinitely. I took a deep breath and searched myself in
the glass. As much as I wanted to
believe my own words, my own reflection didn’t even believe it.
That’s when I felt it. I felt a shift. Literally.
The sink I was resting on cracked and a portion of it landed on my left
foot causing me to curse out loud. Apparently, the weight of the world was on my shoulders and unfortunately,
my weight was on the sink. Lucky, not so
much. I had to pay the landlord for a new
sink, and for the next few days, I limped my way to and at work. I learned that evening that if I ever feel the
weight of the world on my shoulders, I should probably brush them off before
leaning on the sink. I also learned that
as bad as things are, they can always get worse.
Twenty years later, and after many other mishaps, this kind
of madness continues in my life. Recently,
my son and I headed out to meet a friend to go dancing in NYC. As we walked to the car I told him why I
appreciated the many good things in my life now. I told
him that because I had so little, all that I have now feels like an enormous
amount of wealth. I remember telling him
how fortunate I was to be able to go dancing with my son and a friend. As we got closer to my parked car, I noticed
that my car was broken into. The burglar(s)
broke the side rear window, stole my radio, iPod, and my son’s dance shoes!
After the initial disbelief and shock, I texted my friend and
told him that we would be a little late.
I then called my insurance company to learn that they would pay to fix
the window. As violating as being burglarized
felt, I couldn’t help but notice that it was only the small back window that
was broken, which would still allow me to drive the car, even in the rain. Furthermore, I was thankful that the burglar(s)
left my registration, insurance card and my watch!
When I tell this story to friends, they tell me that I am a
foolish optimist. Well, luck would have
it that that doesn’t bother me! Luck is
a state of mind that I choose to embody. In my life, I have learned to live life on
life’s terms by accepting what is happening now and focusing on what I want.
This is how I ended up moving from a dingy basement apartment to living a life
of luxury in the third floor comfortable converted two-bedroom apartment
with my son.
May you find luck, however you define it.
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