Written by Luke Beling
One of my favorite Chinese parables goes like this:
A farmer’s horse runs away. When his neighbors hear the news, they lament his misfortune. The farmer replies, “Maybe so. Maybe not.”
Later, the horse returns, bringing with it many wild horses. The neighbors rejoice, calling it good luck. “Maybe so. Maybe not,” the farmer responds.
The story continues in this manner: with each incident, good or bad, the farmer offers the same response.
At midnight on July 29th, 2015, my wife and I woke to our sliding doors rattling like World War II bunkers. When we stepped into daylight, we stood with mouths agape, staring at flipped-over cars, decapitated coral blossom trees, and the roofless homes of our neighbors.
Super Typhoon Soudelor had torn through the beautiful island of Saipan, the place we’d called home for the past year and a half.
This period of my life was the closest I’ve come to having a nervous breakdown. I felt like a fight-or-flight wrecking ball, driven by reactive commentary: “My income’s gone. My newborn’s going to die from mosquito bites. Nothing will ever be the same.”
A far cry from, “Maybe so. Maybe not.”
I began looking for short-term work in Hawaii since the tennis courts where I taught were under repair. This search led to an opportunity to audition for a dream job on the Big Island.
I got the job.
There was nothing inherently good about Typhoon Soudelor; so many lives were devastated, and Saipan took years to recover. If I could go back and undo those 180 mph winds, I wouldn’t think twice.
What I learned, though, is that life is rarely ever as it seems; the good or the bad that happens to us isn’t definitive; and the unpredictability of circumstance will always thwart the reactive mind.
Would the door have opened on the Big Island if not for Typhoon Soudelor?
Maybe so. Maybe not.
Perhaps the only sure footing we can hope to find on this path of life lies in how we respond to uncertainty: with acceptance, free from immediate judgment, and not as victims of the Darwinian impulse, hands in the air, eyes closed, doing our damndest to avoid the sh#t when it inevitably hits the fan.
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Luke Beling is a South African–born singer-songwriter and author living on Hawaiʻi Island. His songs and prose share the same ground: the ordinary rendered with unusual attention. His new album, Sea Queen, produced by Sam Kassirer, is out this year on MDDN/Atlantic. He has published a novel, The Field of Plenty, and a short story collection, Maybe It’s Not Too Late. He is at work on a second novel, set in apartheid and post-apartheid South Africa.