Kate's Five Things #45
The funny thing about luck
Catching Up
I found 106 four-leaf clovers this year. My record was sixteen in one walk. This was abnormal for someone who has never had trouble spotting an anomaly in a green, patchy field of sameness.
Finding them wherever I went—the softball field, the playground, outside the grocery store—was one of those little gifts we find bestowed upon us in childhood. My educational years were complicated, but my visual and creative life was deep and vast during this time. Finding four-leaf clovers always felt like a little reminder that I mattered; I was on my path. Sometimes, when we struggle with what everyone else finds easy, we delight in what most people cannot see. I always look for the possibility of spotting one.
Why was it that this year, on the walking path I had taken hundreds of times before, a sudden abundance of four-leaf clovers appeared?
There could be two possible explanations:
Environmental factors: The dry summer conditions may have caused more genetic mutations than usual in the clover plants.
Perceptual awareness: It might be related to the power of perception and actively looking for them. As mentioned in this context, when you consistently look for something specific, you may become more attuned to spotting it. This is supported by the record of finding sixteen clovers in one walk.
It suggests an interesting philosophical question: Do we have more control over what we find in life based on what we choose to look for?
I’ve worried a lot lately about time running out, about the ideas claimed by others before I could sink my teeth in. There are only so many rare moments of improbable luck to go around. What if my time was up?
As I collected more clovers this summer, a tug to outdo myself bloomed. I started to get competitive, seeking to outdo yesterday’s record-breaking number. Instead of spotting them as I walked along the path, I’d stop at each spot that snagged my attention and search. I wanted to quantify this “special talent,” as if its value in my life could be confirmed by being measured in numbers. I wanted proof my luck had not run out.
What I found was when I was seeking, I found myself more blind to their presence.
So, I set a rule. I could look but not search—no stopping to bend down and poke. The clovers had to reveal themselves to me as I strode down the path, and it was my job to trust they were there.
Sometimes, I’d catch a glimpse and ask, Did I see it? With that question, I knew to keep walking. I’d stop only with certainty. If I did catch a glimpse and miss it, so be it. I am not here to collect as much evidence of their rarity but to delight in the ones that snag me like a taut string: undeniable in their presence.
That’s the thing about ideas and luck and four-leaf clovers. They come and go and hide in plain sight. It is the environment and conditions. And it is our perception.
When we’re open to luck, we’re open to the opportunity of something miraculous, something we can’t quite wrap logically around. Small or big, luck feels miraculous because we’ve submitted control without losing hope. We’re in a dance with everything that is connected to us.
Like when we spot a four-leaf clover, luck strikes when we embrace the unknown with hope, giving it our all while submitting to the mystery of never fully knowing where an idea (or life) will lead us.
It’s not the clover we’re searching for, but the hope we can find it.
House Call Last Week…
In last week’s House Call, “How to Be OK With Being Misunderstood,” we discussed the surprising freedom hidden beneath painful experiences.
Here’s a snippet:
I used to think I couldn’t pursue big projects and goals because I was directionless. I would try something and then lose interest. Really, it was because I was putting the things I cared about on a pedestal, out of my own reach because I was afraid of being judged if I pursued them. I now know the only way to move beyond the cycle of perfectionism and the need for validation is to accept the process of iteration—trying one thing, letting it roll into the next step, and repeating the practice over and over again.
How I'm feeling this week…
Like a rolling stone. We celebrated Bennett’s birthday and had much family time together—no more little kids in my house. Time marches on, and I won’t cry about the inevitable, but some days, I wish we could all press pause and savor when everything is good and happy, and we’re together like this.
What's in my cart…
I ordered a dupe pair of The Row zipper booties and they are fantastic. I waited for six weeks to get them but it was worth the wait. The Zara Kids section has some gems and I picked up these two cardigans: Jacquard Cardi (size 13-14 runs like a women’s large) and this Floral Wool Blend Cardi (size 13-14 runs like a women’s small)
What I'm consuming…
I finally started Shrinking! I have not finished season one, but I love it.
What resonated with me…
This little poem on abundance.
A question I've been asking myself lately…
Do I really need it, or do I worry I’ll need it in the future?
I have long struggled with clutter and what some would call “light hoarding,” which got so bad during the pandemic that I no longer go thrifting. Oh, how I miss it! I see the potential in every little object but don’t think about the time, space, and energy it takes to manage the item.
With the holidays coming up and purchases for the kids being made, I have been thinking a lot about how I am passing on this relationship with stuff. I’ve started including Joe in the fold while making purchases, cleaning out closets, and any place where I notice that twinge of confusion around if I really need it or if I think I’ll need it in the future.
Talking through my reasons for keeping things (out loud) brings awareness to the false logical (or emotional) reasons we’re afraid to let go of things we *might* need in the future. Because— surprise— it rarely happens.
Home of the Week - on hiatus for a bit!
Note: We’re pivoting from Space of the Week to Home of the Week to feature real people sharing real-time stories, photos, and updates of their evolving homes. If you have a submission, email us at hello@witanddelight.com with the subject line HOUSE CALL FEATURE.
Kate
I could read an entire essay on light hoarding and getting out of the "will I need it in the future" mentality. I get emotionally attached and think, "would my kids want to look at this some day, knowing it was mine?" It's so hard to let go of things! Congrats to you for finding a system that works!
This is beautiful, Kate!