Fingers Crossed
I’m not superstitious but I always wave at magpies, pick up pennies and wish on full moons. And when someone gave me a present of a horseshoe I was thrilled – because it’s luckier to receive one than to buy it, although finding a horseshoe is providential too.
Now despite not being superstitious, I spent an entire morning debating where to hang it to maximise the luck. On the back gate, so I could keep misfortune as far from my world as possible? Above the bed, so luck would surround me as I sleep? On the kitchen door so I would remember to stroke the horseshoe each morning and activate the luck? Above the desk to boost my work?
I’m not superstitious, don’t get me wrong, but it struck me that I needed horseshoes in all those places. And then there was the dilemma of whether to hang it pointing downwards (the luck would drain away) or upwards (devil’s horns, bad omen) or on its side like a C (lopsided looking, couldn’t possibly be lucky).
In the end I plumped for the prongs upwards shape, painted it green for belt and braces since green is my lucky colour, and nailed it to the back gate so I can see it from where I work. And a reassuring sight it is, although there’s no coherent reason why that should be. Every time I pass it I touch my horseshoe for luck and so far it’s been remarkably effective. It’s only had a few days to work its magic but already I’ve received two cheques in the post, a lower estimate than expected for building repairs, and a friend dropped in a surprise present of a slushy DVD I’ve wanted to see for ages. Then a florist’s van stopped outside my house and a bouquet the size of Rathlin Island emerged … only to be carried up next door’s path. A momentary flicker of pique sparked until I realised there was no harm in spreading the luck. Isn’t it odd, though, that I’m not superstitious (I’m far too rational to believe in such things) but I’m convinced that a small crescent of metal is enhancing my life. Mind you, lots of sensible people have superstitious tics. I know a man who won’t be parted from his four-leaf clover keyring, although he says it’s because his daughter bought it. And a cousin always bends down to pick up white feathers from the ground because she believes they mean her guardian angel is in the vicinity.
Could it be that our defiantly superstition-free modern perspective is skin-deep? Arguably it’s more dependent on electricity than logic – give us a power-cut and a few nights of candlelight and we’ll all be hoarding rabbit’s feet, elephant amulets and rattlesnake’s rattles in our mojo bags.
Recently I felt gratified to discover that the Nobel prize-winning physicist Niels Bohr kept a horseshoe nailed above his desk, and told an interviewer it brought luck whether or not you believed in its powers. So it’s a win-win insurance policy. Besides, if it’s good enough for a Nobel prize-winner it’s good enough for me. He wasn’t superstitious either.
