On Friday the 13th
Maybe the biggest lesson in life is that there wouldn’t be the feeling of happiness unless there weren’t the feeling of misfortune. So by the age people – me at least – slowly get satisfied with the unpredictable flow of the life and the destiny. I have accepted my faith whatever it is. There’s no reason to fight back – because when fighting you can’t reach the inner peace. If I died in a plane crash tomorrow, I would be scared, of course, but I would die satisfied. Thankful about all those beautiful places I got to see.
There have been so many situations that I wonder that I’m still alive. Why me? Every day I read miserable news about death and accidents. Do angels exist – why did they want to protect me?
In Melbourne’s St Kilda, a car hit me. Luckily it was a doctor driving over me. You see there are good aspects in bad luck – blessing in disguise. Back then I was just laughing and sucking the laughing gas in the ambulance. But afterwards I have been thinking about it: I could have hit my head, and that would have been it. Because of my bum, you can still read my stories today – that’s how I landed from the 40km per hour speed! Ironically I was running when the accident happened – and then for the first time in my life I got fat because my ankle got fucked up and I had to take it easy and try out all the different flavours of Cadbury’s Australia.
In Cuba’s Havana, the wind blew me just to the right side because when I was walking on a fortress wall I suddenly dropped off. It hurt to plump down. But when I looked to the other side there was a hell of a drop! And these are just a few cases. Good luck within bad luck creates humility.
So based on this statistics that I’m exposed to the accidents I am trying to live like every day was the last. It’s very hard, though. I don’t always manage. Do we manage? I don’t think so. We see life as a self-evident truth. We should have less work and more pleasure without hurrying. The enjoying the moment aspect.
The most long-lasting bad luck that I have had lately is that I have been trying to get one cheque in Malta for one year (yes, they still use cheques here). To my misfortune the first couple of times, it had gone to a wrong address. And then when it finally came, it wasn’t signed. So if the bad luck or in this case rather Maltese chaos teaches something is the nerve. And I know that when I finally get that cheque I will be so happy. I will hype that small miracle, and I will go and pamper myself with something nice. But first I stop at the traffic lights and look around – even it was green (as in St Kilda, Melbourne).