Is it good or bad?

Anthony de Mello tells about an old Chinese farmer. He had but one horse as his possession. He used this animal almost exclusively in all of his work. For example, when it was time to plough, he hooked the animal up to the plough, and it broke the ground for planting. When it was time to take the harvest to the market, he would hitch the horse to a wagon. When he wanted to travel any great distance, he would put a saddle on it and ride the horse. The horse played an important role in his life.

One day a bee stung the horse and, in fright, he ran up into the mountains. The old farmer tried to follow him but he couldn't keep up. He came home that night to tell the whole village that he had lost his beloved animal. His neighbours began to come in and say, ‘I'm sure sorry to hear about your bad luck, about your losing your horse.’

The old farmer shrugged and said, ‘Bad luck, good luck, who is to say?’

Two days later, the horse came back from the mountains and with him were six wild horses that he had met on the steppes. The old farmer was able to corral all seven of these creatures, which was quite an economic bonanza.

The word got around the village. The villagers came at night and said to him, ‘So glad to hear about your good luck, about all the animals that you now have.’

Again, the old farmer shrugged and said, ‘Good luck, bad luck, who is to say?’

His son realized what an opportunity this was to make some money. If he could tame these wild animals, then he could sell them to be farm animals. He began to try to break in these wild horses. One of them bucked him off one day, and he broke his leg very painfully in three places. Word got around the village and the neighbours came that night and said to the old farmer, ‘So sorry to hear about your bad luck, about your boy getting hurt.’

Again, he shrugged, ‘Good luck, bad luck, who is to say?’

Not long after that, a war broke out among the city-states in the province of China. The government came through and conscripted every able-bodied man under the age of sixty to go and fight. Because the son had been injured, he was not required to go, and that turned out to be something very good because every villager who was drafted into service wound up being killed in the war. Once again, ‘Good luck, bad luck, who is to say?’