We do not know very well why but although we become strong, sometimes we miss a lost look at the sky looking for "something" of luck or a wink of fate. However, when we get home, we light candles for morbidity or decoration and pray mantras to find maximum relaxation while birds are playing on the iPad. We question everything. We have become accustomed "to see to believe." We have the poor "destiny already written" picking up dust under the bed. We are agnostics by devotion. Passes by divine inspiration. We do not believe anything but that luck (which must be invisible like the wind, colorless like water and transcendent as the "who does not support, no such") don't touch us.
With luck you don't play.
Luck is good. No one would ever dare to say otherwise. And it doesn't surprise me. Something very big is at stake. Your job, why go, how lucky you were, huh Those five years of career, those months of unpaid internships, that intensive English course ... Shut up, shut up. It's lucky It's luck because you and I don't. Ah okay. Cool Thank you? And your couple, jolin ... what a luck. Yes, good… Yes, woman. Already but… No, woman. That you have been very lucky with that good husband who has touched you. No, if the truth is that touch me ... little. Yes, that is a luck. Ah okay. And that the child already eats you vegetables like this without pressing or anything. Lucky. But is that ... he didn't dislike it from the beginning. What a luck of yours. And the five euros that have touched you in some draw of those of luck. Wow, what luck. It never touches me. But if you never buy any tickets. Already, but luck is above all that. Luck, luck, luck. The damn luck.
Luck, apparently, is responsible for everything good that happens to us. Come on you spend your life having to feel grateful for something magical? divine? heavenly? For something that is not or was not (allow me) will be in our hands. For something that just as it came, it will go away. Luck. That damn luck.
Why is it so hard to stop believing in luck?
There are no reliable studies of random American universities on this. There is no data on what the hell happens if you do not support the glass before toasting. There are also no records of people who shouted to the sky that the fault of returning home alone on another Saturday was because of the bad luck that brought him not to touch the wet glass with that sticky bar. Nobody. Nor are there proven results on the good luck you have after stepping on a pet as a dog (hopefully as a dog, that would be lucky). No one has ever signed up for a notebook "I have stepped on a poodle poop at 20:37 on 03/09/2016. Check my luck in the next few days". I always had the doubt of whether luck in stepping on those pastry it was immediate, had a period of 24 hours or was something without expiration. Not to mention the fate that inspires touching a piece of wood, crossing fingers with some contortion, getting a malformed four-leaf clover or that of carrying a piece of deceased rabbit hanging.
I could finish and say goodbye with a "good night and good luck" but I prefer to share "my luck" with three tips. First: Trust your intuition. So the fault will be yours and only yours. You will be the last and only responsible for your actions. Good's and bad's. Think that with the good you will come up because it will have had nothing to do with the damn luck. Support the glass on the bar and throw the cane, the yew or the net (there each with his love techniques) if that is what you want ... because love is not going to be done alone.
Second but not least: Be optimistic. Not only does it consist of repeating a thousand times in front of the mirror that bad luck does not exist. You also have to believe it. Believe it strong. What normal people call "assume."
Third and not worse: Face and change. Luck we think that falls from the sky and rubs with your fine fingers of blonde pianist your acts, but no. Nothing to see Your luck is you and what you do. And now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to wash my face that Paulo Coelho has put in my eye.
In Jared | The perfect CV exists ... and it could be yours