The Good Luck of Right Now

When something bad happens to us, something good happens - often to someone else. And that's The Good Luck of Right Now. We must believe it. We must. We must. We must.

Remember that not getting what you want is sometimes a wonderful stroke of luck.

This is when I learned that nice people sometimes felt they had to pretend to be mean and awful.

We don’t know anything. But we can choose how we respond to whatever comes our way. We have a choice always. Remember that!

...You cannot beat time; you can only enjoy it whenever possible, as it zooms by endlessly.

A friend is a present you give yourself.

Have you noticed that far too often the best people in the world lack power,

What is reality if it isn't how we feel about things?

Tragedy should be utilized as a source of strength.’ No matter what sort of difficulties, how painful experience is, if we lose our hope, that’s our real disaster.

The universe hiccups, and we poor fools try to figure out why.

Why didn't my father get to give Mom the fairy tale? Why do most people fail to give each other the fairy tale?

And what is reality, if it isn’t how we feel about things? What else matters at the end of the day when we lie in bed alone with our thoughts?

I remembered a line I read in the Dalai Lama’s book A Profound Mind. “It is important that we understand just how truly all-pervasive suffering is.” I remembered the Dalai Lama saying it is easy to feel sorry for an elderly beggar, but it is much harder to feel sorry for a young rich man. He also said that all “conditioned existence is characterized by pain.” And that all types of people are “enslaved” by “strong destructive emotions.

Perfect doesn't exist for people like us, Bartholomew. Passable. That's what I want. Just simply passable. If I could have a passable existence, I think I'd be very grateful.

Fly! There's a lot of sky out there for brave birds.

Father McNamee would have said Brother Andre had faith -- he just believed more than other people. And I wondered if faith were not a form of pretending.

Pray.” “For what?” I asked. “That our house will never be broken into again?” “No. What happens to things is not important. Pray that your heart will be able to endure whatever happens to you in the future—your heart must continue to believe that the events in this world are not the be-all and end-all but simply transient unimportant variables. Beyond the everyday ins and outs of our lives, there is a greater purpose—a reason. Perhaps we don’t yet see or understand the reason—maybe our human minds are incapable of understanding fully—yet it all leads us to something greater nonetheless.

I admire you your willingness to offer kindness almost indiscriminately. But unfortunately, it takes a lot more than kindness to survive in this world." I understood what she meant, but I also understood that Mom's philosophy was a powerful weapon.

pretending often ends when you allow nonpretenders access to the better, safer worlds you create for yourself.

I thought of a line from the Dalai Lama’s book A Profound Mind: “‘We should work toward cherishing the welfare of others to the point where we are unable to bear the sight of their misery.

It was cold, but we weren't about to make Max leave because we didn't know if he or any of us would ever make it back to Canada's capital city, let alone this very spot, and even if we did, somehow we knew it would never be the same as right then. There would be different variables, if we came back, a totally different equation made up of wildly different circumstances; it just couldn't be helped, because life was always evolving and changing, and therefore, no matter how much we'd like to, we would never, ever have that moment again--even if we tried with all our might to re-create it, going so far as wearing the exact clothes even, we would fail, because you cannot beat time; you can only enjoy it whenever possible, as it zooms by endlessly.

...and I kept thinking about the questions the border patrolman had asked. Are those types of questions able to define us as people? Measure our worth, our goodness, and whether or not we are safe visitors? Where are you going? What do you do for a living? Business or pleasure? Do the answers prove whether our lives matter and whether we're worthy of being admitted into Canada? If we're dangerous? What was the point of asking any questions whatsoever...

(I have to say that everything seems to be unraveling lately. Or maybe it seems as though I am a flower myself, opening up to the world for the first time. I don’t know why this is, and I’m not really in control of it either. Flowers do not think, Okay, it is now May, so I will reach up toward the sun and relax my fist of petals into an open hand. They do not think at all. Flowers just grow, and when it is time, they shoot colors out of their stems and become beautiful.

Have you ever really listened to birds chirping--really truly listened? So pretty it makes your chest ache.

Nobody knows anything when they are in their midtwenties.

Going to the movies? Fuck that! You have to sit with fucking asshole strangers and you never know which one has a fucking cold or what fuck is going to bring a fucking crying baby.

Why is it that the people who are very good at answering difficult questions never get asked difficult questions, while people like me are always being forced to do things that are seemingly impossible?

believed in The Good Luck of Right Now. Believing—or maybe even pretending—made you feel better about what had happened, regardless of what was true and what wasn’t. And what is reality, if it isn’t how we feel about things? What else matters at the end of the day when we lie in bed alone with our thoughts? And isn’t it true, statistically speaking—regardless of whether we believe in luck or not—that good and bad must happen

he didn’t say anything to the contrary or interrupt me in any way, which was nice. (Polite listening skills really are rare, don’t you think?)

that not getting what you want is sometimes a wonderful stroke of luck.