Untitled (On Luck)

"Of course, I don't believe in witches...but there are witches."
-Argentinian saying

It seems to me that travelers tend to be a bit more superstitious than the average person. I'm not sure why. I haven't put a lot of thought into it, possibly it has something to do with the fact that a traveler's life is far less structured and "luck" or "omens" are a way of fending off chaos and randomness. I myself don't believe in such things, but still can't help but notice certain events and thinking them...interesting.

Ivan, my travel partner, and I arrived in Flagstaff, Arizona a week ago. Here, we met an Australian adventurer named Mick (his real name - no shit!) and, early Saturday morning we drove into the desert to do some exploring. Ivan took us to a little-known sacred mountain (apparently it isn't on any maps) in Navajo territory. He asked if we would like to climb it, but Mick refused, saying that he doesn't climb sacred areas unless invited. Fair enough. As we looked around the road, we noticed little petrified bits of wood that were now pretty much stone - or very hard beef jerky (the ground here is mostly red.) Thinking it looked pretty cool, I put one in my pocket without the others noticing. We left and checked out some some of the other places nearby. On our way back to town, a great dust storm blew up - so thick at times, it was like driving through dense, pink fog. We got back to town and Ivan went to a bar to watch a soccer game. I went to the hostel, excited to take a nap. As soon as I walked in, I was informed that neither Ivan nor I had a bed that night, as we neglected to inform them before we left that morning that we were staying. I looked around for other options (motels) but, it having been Memorial Day Weekend, even the lousiest of motel rooms were near $300. Ivan and I decided that it was time to move on. So we hopped in the truck and took off for the border. 45 miles south of town, we broke down and had to get towed back to Flagstaff. It was a rough night - the two of us sleeping together in the packed truck.

So the next day I started thinking about the previous day's events. I was sitting with Ivan and Mick, and asked if either of them had grabbed one of the rocks from the desert, as I had done. Amusingly, Ivan had, over which Mick laughed heartily and chastised him. "You realize," I said to Ivan "that we fucked ourselves!" Mick laughed harder. Of course, I wasn't entirely serious, but it was a hard thing to not notice.

The next day, Ivan (a very spiritual, superstitious person) asked me what I really thought about the stones, and if we should return them to where we'd gotten them. I had thought about this more myself, and reminded him of a story that he'd told me earlier in the trip. I don't remember exactly how it went, but it was essentially about a kindly old Chinese man who raised horses. One day his horses broke out of the stable and left him. "How unfortunate," said his friends. "Well, the horses have left, it's true. But I don't know if this is a good or a bad thing." Much later, all of the horses that had left, suddenly returned, and with many more besides. "How wonderful," claimed his friends. "Well, it's true - I have many horses, but I don't know if this is a good or bad thing, " said the exhausted man. I had remembered that I don't believe in "good" or "bad" luck. Yes, our plans came to a halt, but as the Chinese man said - I don't know if this was a good or bad thing. If it's not too trite sounding - "good" or "bad" is merely a matter of perspective. Indeed, I know that there are people who are quite ecstatic by these occurrences. Ultimately things just happen. If I want to inject any meaning into them, I don't see the stone as lucky or unlucky Rather, I like to think of it as having brought about the "winds of change" that blew the dust around that day. Neither malevolent, nor beneficent.

After that night in the truck, Ivan and I have been back in the hostel. I am on my way to San Diego today, but Ivan (who is fairly disabled) is stuck here waiting for repairs (given that his truck is a Japanese import, who knows how long that will take? Not to mention how expensive.) This morning, he told me that the hostel can only accommodate him until Friday because they have a 4 night maximum (we've been here a week now.) This, despite that he's somewhat of a regular here. Like the China man's friends - I feel bad for him. An hour ago, I am writing something completely unnecessary on the back of one of my homemade postcards of Halifax to leave for Ivan. Something akin to what I've been writing here. Ivan comes into the room, looks at the floor, says quietly, "So much beauty in this world.............What did I come in for - oh yes, my glasses." He immediately turns around and leaves. It kills me. I can't help but cry.