posted on Jun, 14 2009 @ 04:57 PM
There was once a peasant who owned a single horse on which he depended for almost everything.
When it was time to plant in the spring, he would hitch the horse to a plow to break up the ground for the seeds.
At the end of the growing season, he would hitch the same horse to a wagon and take his surplus to market.
Whenever he was going to take a long trip, he saddled the animal as his only transportation.
There was hardly a day that went by when the horse was not vital and valuable to the life of the old farmer.
One afternoon a bee stung the horse on the neck and in a panic, the animal ran away into the hills behind the framer’s house.
The old man tried to head him off, but he could not keep up.
So as the sun went down that night, he had to go home and tell his wife that the beloved horse had run away.
All of this took place in a tiny village in the interior of China where nothing exciting ever occurred.
An event of this sort became the conversation piece for everyone. Wherever the old farmer went during the next week, his neighbors would shake their
heads and say, “Sure sorry to hear about your bad luck, losing your horse.
And the old man would shrug his shoulders and say, “Good luck, bad luck, who’s to say?”
A week later to his utter amazement, his beloved horse reappeared, accompanied by six wild horses he had met high up in the slopes. The farmer was
able to corral them all, which was a huge economic bonanza.
Now, everywhere he went his neighbors would say, “Sure glad to hear about your good luck, getting all those horses.”
And the farmer would shrug his shoulders and reply, “Good luck, bad luck, who’s to say?”
The farmer’s son was anxious to make the most of this good fortune, so he began to try to break in the wild horses and get them to the point of
wearing bridles and saddles.
The young man, however, had never done this kind of work before and because of his inexperience, he was thrown from one of the horses and broke his
leg in three places.
Word spread throughout the community, and everywhere the old farmer went for the next week, his neighbors would say, “Sure sorry to hear about your
bad luck, your boy getting hurt.”
And the farmer would shrug and reply, “Good luck, bad luck, who’s to say?”
Two weeks later, a war broke out between city-states of interior China, and the army conscripted every able bodied male over the age of fifteen to go
Of course, the farmer’s son would have been called up but due to his injury, he could not go.
This proved fortuitous indeed because every other villager who was conscripted was killed in battle.
As you probably anticipated, when word spread of these events, his neighbors all said, “Sure glad to hear about your good luck, your boy being
And the old man shrugged once again and replied, “Good luck, bad luck, who’s to say?”
You see, it’s all in how you look at it!
[edit on 14-6-2009 by Jesus H Christ]