The instant we set upon our two-wheelers this morning we were moved to proclaim the magnificence of the day! Though I know the winter season does not officially commence until December, and without wishing to detract from that date, I have always attached import to October 21st as though it were a celestial or astronomic signal of change. Not infrequently as today the weather was divine. But the trees which have been exotic this year are showing precipitous signs of autumn’s incalculable passage.

Often I have alluded to the serendipity about which I marvel. Its critical feature is that it is a happy coincidence without prerequisite. Everyone qualifies for the chance.

ORIGIN1754: coined by Horace Walpole, suggested by The Three Princes of Serendip, the title of a fairy tale in which the heroes ‘were always making discoveries, by accidents and sagacity, of things they were not in quest of’.

Note however the final clause of the above quotation. It hints an alliance with “things they were in quest of”.  This element overcomes the radical “fluke” feature of the occurrence suggesting (and rightly so in my opinion) there is a connection between the process and the outcome.  Indeed it is not an entirely uncommon translation of almost any incident on life’s path though it tends to point more directly to one’s influence than to the stars in the sky. And, may I rhetorically ask, are there any other more acute limitations of entitlement to serendipity? A preliminary might be that the whole idea of serendipity grew out of a fairy tale.  That alone rather succeeds to dilute the overall thrust of the subject. For the moment however I shall rise above that qualification and recall that, even without knowing the word serendipity, each of us has had the experience of it.

I have nonetheless some difficulty accounting for this quest-get inference because, to take a rude and highly exaggerated model for illustration purposes only, one could supposedly predict beneficence if it were the object of one’s ambition. Here I dissolve among the myriad of adages about “life is what you make it”. Instead I prefer (without revoking a broad interpretation of the magic we call life) to advance that the things we are in quest of most frequently confine themselves to reasonable limitations.  My mission is not for a philosophic victory; rather one more of the empirical nature.

In plain terms I have today to report that, against relentless battery by dietary restraint, I have translated my hitherto provocative visceral forces into a manifest enterprise of purpose and gain. My constituents were assembled awaiting the consummation of the azure sky and delightful temperature. And hallelujah it came!  I knew what was to be done.  Without further nomadic delay, I proceeded to the deli where I purchased my much beloved homemade sourdough bread!