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E56 - Good Luck? Bad Luck? Who knows?
There was an old man who had a beautiful horse. This horse was not only his family’s pride and joy, but it was also a means to an income for the family.
One day, the horse ran away. Fellow villagers visited the old man to give their condolences for such a stroke of bad luck, as the loss of his horse represented a staggering financial blow that would be hard to recover from.
“Good luck, bad luck: Who can tell?” replied the old man. “It is as it is. My horse is gone.”
Perplexed at the man’s nonchalance towards the apparent tragedy, the villagers went about their business.
A few days later, the horse returned with a pack of 12 wild horses in tow. Again the villagers gathered, this time to offer their congratulations at such a stroke of good luck. Now he had 12 more horses with which to make 12 times the income! What a godsend, they said.
“Good luck, bad luck: Who can tell?” replied the old man again. “All I see is that 12 more horses have appeared.”
The next week, while breaking in one of the wild horses, the old man’s son fell and both his legs were broken. What bad luck! The villagers exclaimed. Your son has broken both of his legs. That’s terrible. How will you get your work done? You are too old to do it yourself.
“Good luck, bad luck: Who can tell?” was the (now predictable and equally frustrating) answer of the old man. “My son has broken his legs. That is all I know.”
Shortly thereafter, the government forcibly removed all the able-bodied men from the village, as the country had gone to war. The old man’s son, however, was spared since his legs were broken.
Good luck, bad luck: Who can tell?
A tag line at the end. This podcast reminded me why I'm doing this.
https://insideofyoupodcast.com/episodes/rainn-wilson
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By A Better Father
5
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There was an old man who had a beautiful horse. This horse was not only his family’s pride and joy, but it was also a means to an income for the family.
One day, the horse ran away. Fellow villagers visited the old man to give their condolences for such a stroke of bad luck, as the loss of his horse represented a staggering financial blow that would be hard to recover from.
“Good luck, bad luck: Who can tell?” replied the old man. “It is as it is. My horse is gone.”
Perplexed at the man’s nonchalance towards the apparent tragedy, the villagers went about their business.
A few days later, the horse returned with a pack of 12 wild horses in tow. Again the villagers gathered, this time to offer their congratulations at such a stroke of good luck. Now he had 12 more horses with which to make 12 times the income! What a godsend, they said.
“Good luck, bad luck: Who can tell?” replied the old man again. “All I see is that 12 more horses have appeared.”
The next week, while breaking in one of the wild horses, the old man’s son fell and both his legs were broken. What bad luck! The villagers exclaimed. Your son has broken both of his legs. That’s terrible. How will you get your work done? You are too old to do it yourself.
“Good luck, bad luck: Who can tell?” was the (now predictable and equally frustrating) answer of the old man. “My son has broken his legs. That is all I know.”
Shortly thereafter, the government forcibly removed all the able-bodied men from the village, as the country had gone to war. The old man’s son, however, was spared since his legs were broken.
Good luck, bad luck: Who can tell?
A tag line at the end. This podcast reminded me why I'm doing this.
https://insideofyoupodcast.com/episodes/rainn-wilson