There are the old standbys, like not walking under a ladder (which is really common sense if you think about it), or the black cat crossing your path being bad luck. For good luck we have the found penny, though it seems to me there are fewer good luck superstitions than bad ones.
If you think of any more, leave them in the comments.
Anyway. The real reason for this post is to talk about the superstitions that run in families. Many of us have them I think.
Mine include:
if your hand itches: rub it on wood and it’s sure to be good, rub it on your ass and it’s sure to pass. This refers to good luck. Hey, there’s one!
lilies signify death. Don’t give them.
never seat 13 at the table – I’ve never known quite what to do if I actually have 12 guests. Then again, I’ve never had a table big enough. 😛
if you drop a knife, don’t pick it up yourself or you’ll have a bad surprise. When someone else picks it up for you, don’t say thank you, or they’ll have a bad surprise. So if you come to my house and there’s a knife on the floor, you’ll know why. And don’t expect any appreciation if you pick it up. 😉
It’s a phrase we hear all the time. Songs have been sung, people pass it off as words of wisdom to the forlorn and the heartbroken. I found it in my horoscope today. The sentence before it stated that my emotions must not be ignored.
As advice, it sounds pretty. It lends to the imagination the idea that our hearts speak to us and can guide us on which way to go when we are unsure. But when we listen to our hearts, must we necessarily go in the direction we really want? Or does it mean that we should do what we know is right?
I wonder if cardiologists everywhere roll their eyes whenever they hear the phrase spoken aloud?
Thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump…
Blog post of December 6th, in honour of Every Damn Day December. Check it out! It’s not too late to join in!
There should be a word specifically for the feeling you get when you say something you shouldn’t have.
It happens to everyone, I’m sure. It’s the verbal vomit that comes out of your mouth in what we delicately label a faux pas.
It’s the facebook post that you realize was something that should have been kept a secret, or the mass email you thought you’d sent to only your best friend and closest confidant, just to discover your kids’ teacher is now aware that you have a yeast infection.
For things like this, the word “regret” doesn’t quite cut it. It’s that disconnect that separates good intention from devastating action.
Even the witty comment you think of half an hour after the fact, which is far less embarrassing but easily as annoying.
Communication impediment is too bulky. Linguistically challenged comes to mind… How about “linge”?
We could say, “Excuse me, I linged,” when we ask an acquaintance how her husband is, only to find out she just went through an ugly divorce. Or, “Damnit, I could have said ‘Duck!’ when the ball came flying through the air behind that guy, rather than ‘Watch out!’ making him turn and get it in the face instead. What a linge!”
Yeah, “linge.” It’s gonna be big.
Blog post of December 5th, in honour of Every Damn Day December. Check it out! It’s not too late to join in!
I’ve had one of these every year since I was a child.
I used to be the only one in the house with one, now every year I buy four – one each for the kids,
and one for me.
I don’t know… Apart from the obvious miniscule sugar rush each morning, there’s something inherently comforting in hunting down the right number for the date, and then popping open the little door. And if you’re lucky, the chocolates didn’t all come unglued during shipping, and they’re not all sitting down at the bottom of the packaging.
So far, so good.
Blog post of December 4th, in honour of Every Damn Day December. Check it out! It’s not too late to join in!
So I was walking across the main road that’s on my paper route when I passed over this for the first time:
There I was, standing in the middle of the road, wondering why they would print the word “Danger” on a manhole cover. It’s in the middle of the road! Cars drive over it all the time! So I took this picture.
Luckily, I got out of the way before a car came.
Blog post of December 2nd, in honour of Every Damn Day December. Check it out! It’s not too late to join in!
Never a dull moment, they say. And here, in my life, it’s true.
I just walked into the room which houses my main household computer to find a hole in the wall. My autistic son has learned not to put his fist through the window, it seems. That was so two years ago. And now there is one more thing to add to the list of repairs on my house.
We’ve been through the behavioural training. I’ve been told over and over again to ignore the behaviour I don’t like and pay attention and praise the behaviour I wish to continue. But I can’t be with him all the time. This is what happens, apparently, when I ignore the yelling. Most of the time it actually works. Once in a while, I pay the consequences.
It’s an ongoing struggle. I’m sad to think that I might not always be able to take care of him on my own, but it’s a fact I have to face. He needs the influence of a man in his life – he’s eighteen years old. I don’t have one for him, and his father not only lives elsewhere, but that elsewhere is now hours away instead of across town where he lived up until this summer.
Sometimes I feel like I do nothing. I can spend hours some days, just writing. Other days I’m completely overwhelmed. Least of all is the stress of not knowing what’s coming next.
Every once in a while I come across an opinion piece in the newspaper or on the internet, stating the importance of Vitamin C in preventing and even curing illnesses. By far the most astounding account of it is this:
in which Vitamin C was apparently proven to cure leukemia in a child. The data is actually quite convincing.
I stumbled across the concept by accident years ago, when I realized that if someone else in the house had a cold, or if I felt the beginnings of one in myself, if I took at least a 1,000mg (1 gram) pill, I could avoid the cold altogether. This didn’t work, however, when we all had H1N1, but then again, according to the article, maybe I just didn’t take enough.
It seems to me that there’s enough evidence that Vitamin C works, that it brings up once again the subject of the big pharmaceutical companies having the monopoly over the market, and that doctors are perpetrating their hold on our wallets.
Nevertheless, I urge anyone who hasn’t already to try taking 500 – 1,500mg per day, in the case of the common cold. You can’t, from what I understand, overdose on Vitamin C, though it is thought best to be taken throughout the day rather than in one large dose, as anything more than is necessary for your weight and size will just go straight through.
It’s cheap and it works. On what, we have to trust the “experts.”
I read once, when my kids were very young, that a baby who laughs when it is startled is a baby who trusts his or her mother. It’s something that I found followed through to their toddler years and beyond. I joked with my kids that I was going to do horrible things with them; cook them and eat them for dinner for instance. They’d laugh, knowing I would never do such a thing, because they trusted me.
There was one instance that I will never forget and I try not to regret for the simple reason that it taught me something.
I was leaving the pool where Alex was, at the time, doing physiotherapy. He wasn’t walking yet at the time, so he must have been less than five years old. I carried him out of the building, loaded with purse, swimming clothes and Alex all in my arms. I remember it was cold. I put him down on the curb in front of the car but to the side where I could see him, so I could wrestle my car keys out of my coat pocket. Had a car come, I was prepared to stand in front of it to prevent him being hurt. I proceeded open the doors and put the bags in. Then I waved goodbye to him and pretended to get into the car, expecting him to laugh. He knew I would never leave him there by myself. But instead of laughing, he smiled at me and waved back.
Whether he didn’t understand the joke or not, the vision of that tiny little boy sitting bundled against the cold, waving goodbye to me with a trusting smile on his beautiful, innocent face, still brings a tear to my eye.
Our children live in the world we construct for them. Whether they are healthy or sick, they can learn to be happy from us as parents because they trust what they see – the example we set. Alex spent the first eight months of his life in the hospital. All he has ever known, from birth, is pain. To this day he wakes up almost every morning with reflux, trying to vomit past an operation he had at six months of age called a fundoplication – basically, a knot was tied in his esophagus to prevent anything coming up. And yet he is the happiest child I’ve ever met. Other people observe this and ask me if he’s ever unhappy. It’s all he’s ever known. He sees me deal with his morning time retching with ease and he is reassured that it’s normal.
One day I know he will find out that it’s not. Will he stop trusting me at that point? I have no idea. It’s for sure that I’ll have the task of assuring him that even if it’s not something everyone experiences, it’s just the way he is, and that’s okay.
The point I’m trying to make I suppose, is that our children are our sponges. They take from us what we show them, and whatever that is, they trust it, because from the very beginning, we are all they know. I hope, for my own part, to preserve that for as long as their personal experiences away from me will allow. And that they will continue to laugh all their lives.
: luck that takes the form of finding valuable or pleasant things that are not looked for
: the faculty or phenomenon of finding valuable or agreeable things not sought for; also: an instance of this
The above is according to Merriam-Webster online.
The most notable instance of serendipity in my life was the meeting, for the second time, of my children’s father.
Luc and I first met when we worked together in Aurora, a small town just north of Toronto. He came into my workplace and asked for my boss. The first time I laid eyes on him I remember thinking to myself, “And what the fuck do you want?” It had been a hectic day, or so I tell myself twenty-eight years hence. I was, hours later, to find out that he was my new manager, and I thanked the heavens above that I hadn’t said out loud what I was thinking. We’ve laughed about it many times since.
Months passed, and he and I got along well. He’s a nice guy. Then he was transferred. A few weeks later I found out that he’d broken up with his girlfriend. I, too, had broken up with my boyfriend and was looking for a roommate. I offered, he refused. Shortly after he decided to go back to Montreal, to be close to family and we lost touch completely.
Seven years down the road found me living close to Ottawa. I’d been there for a couple of months and was heading back home to see my mom near Aurora and I stopped for gas. Luc was there, working at the pumps. It was serendipity – fate, if you will. A year later we moved into our own house and I was pregnant with our first son.
Three kids plus a few years later another seemingly serendipitous event occurred in my life. As it turned out, it wasn’t so lucky and my relationship with Luc ended. Perhaps it was fate, but if it was, I haven’t seen many benefits from it. I am single, yet again.
This all comes to mind because I met someone online, a couple of days ago, with whom I have a great deal in common. Whether it will continue into a lasting friendship or fizzle into nothing as these things sometimes do, remains to be seen. But for now it feels like fate.
We never know what fate will drop in our laps in the next instant. We can only hope to have great serendipitous events, that brighten our outlook, that give us hope for the future, and that help us to believe that maybe there is such a thing as good luck.
Serendipity can take us to important periods of our lives, which may seem to have been fated to happen. On the other hand it could be some little thing, like losing and then finding a piece of jewelry. Just about everything leads to something, right?
What is your best serendipitous event? I’d love to hear about it. If it’s really wonderful, why don’t you blog about it? Just please be sure to put a link in the comments here, so I don’t miss it.
I find myself saying ‘If I could only just…’ a lot.
If I could only just find more time to write…
If I could only just have more money…
If I could only just find true love…
It goes on, ad infinitum. But all these things denote that I’m not content, when for the most part, I am. I have my children here with me, we have a roof over our heads, the air inside is warmer than outside, and there is food in the fridge. And I’m keeping up with my writing quite well, although sometimes it’s a struggle to do anything else.
So what is it which makes me wish for more? Is it simply the human condition to keep striving? It’s hard, for me at least, to keep my mind from going, from wandering, and from wondering what it would be like if I had just a little more.
Now if only I could consume nothing but coffee and chocolate and wine and cheese …. then I’d be happy.
