A stranger, yet so familiar.
Unwanted, yet encouraged.
A change, not thought forward.
A curve, placed uninterrupted.
A reflection, so slightly altered.
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life
The death of ‘Good Luck’
Why this tiny, innocent and inconspicuous phrase should die.
It may seem like a lovely, little phrase full of endearment, positivity and hope but, I’m afraid, the term good luck is such a vapid, empty, meaningless phrase that we might as well just bin it off.
We pick out this term from our charming phrasebook when someone has an occasion coming up which could result in a negative outcome. We say it to be nice. We say it to give them a boost. We say it to show that we support them on this endeavour.
But what we are really saying is that we have zero faith. I’m going to put my belief with this mysterious luck instead of putting my belief in you. We are belittling the hours of preparation that have been put in. The hours of revision, practice or study. The frustrations, stress and pressure. We are boiling all this down to two tiny words that have zero emotional connection.
So what can we say instead of good luck? I hear you, if good luck is so bloomin’ awful, what are we left with? Well, there are so many alternatives that I think we should switch out this go-to phrase immediately!
You could say:
- You’ve got this
- I believe in you
- I know you can do this
- Go get ’em
- Nail it
- They’d be lucky to have you (works best during job interviews)
Yes, I know these require way more thought than the simple ‘good luck’ but can you feel all that belief, good vibes and spirit that each phrase is filled with. It shows that you have so much faith in the person. That you don’t doubt them. That you don’t think some mysterious spirit needs to help them because they have practiced and prepared. It shows pure belief!
So, there you have it. Why we should put ‘good luck’ into retirement.
And if anyone takes this seriously, oh dear. It is an annoying little phrase, though.
Empty
Slightly burnt, with crusts a little too thick.
The last of the butter, evenly spread.
A little sweeter, perhaps? Too bland otherwise.
Is there anything left in the cupboard?
Jam, marmite, lemoncurd?
Maybe the marmite.
Some will hate but others will love.
They’ll say the taste is too strong.
Lingers.
They’ll have their opinions. They’ll say.
But still they will take, despite their talk.
And when there’s nothing left, they’ll move onto the next,
leaving nothing but a few crumbs and an empty shelf.
Retreat
Blinded by the stories,
fractured by the past.
Trying.
One false move,
and off you run.
Retreating.
A little bit of you,
you give what’s left.
Gasping.
Too much,
too little.
Silence.
What lies behind?
A turn of a head,
for just a split second.
There’s that look. Held.
So steady and sure.
Strong, yet seemingly pure.
Not a flutter, nor a falter.
Piercing, enchanting,
understanding, judging?
What lies behind?
Is it something kind?
Your stomach starts to churn,
so very nearly knotted.
A tiny slice of doubt. Niggling.
And so you look elsewhere,
anywhere but there.
The fleeting moment flown.
Long lost before it started.
And so you sit and wonder,
what did they see?
And once again, off you flee.
Just another day
Drip, drip,
you sit and watch.
Drip, drip,
the same old noise.
Drip, drip,
just another day.
Fix it, they say.
Fix it, they plead.
Fix it, they scream.
You stop,
and stare.
Drip, drip,
it’s back again.
Drip, drip,
glass-eyed and numb.
Drip, drip,
just another day.
Do something, they say.
Anything, they hope.
Fix it, they scream.
You stop,
and smile.
Drip, drip,
you rise and fall.
Drip, drip,
You laugh, you scream.
Drip, drip,
just another day.
Quote: Robert M. Pirsig – Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance
“The world has no existence whatsoever outside the human imagination. It’s all a ghost, and in antiquity was so recognized as a ghost, the whole blessed world we live in. It’s run by ghosts. We see what we see because these ghosts show it to us, ghosts of Moses and Christ and the Buddha, and Plato, and Descartes, and Rousseau and Jefferson and Lincoln, on and on and on. Isaac Newton is a very good ghost. One of the best. Your common sense is nothing more than the voices of thousands and thousands of these ghosts from the past. Ghosts and more ghosts. Ghosts trying to find their place among the living.”
