Very Superstitious

On making your own luck.

I have a pair of lucky running shorts.

In a sport with no shortage of slick gear, they’re not the nicest specimens — they hail from the clearance rack and vaguely resemble a hot air balloon. There is nothing inherently lucky about them, aside from the part where I wore them once, ran slightly better than I normally do, and thus anointed them as special. Now I won’t race without them.

I’d like to tell you that it stops at the shorts. It doesn’t.

The morning of a race, I make my way through a specific set of steps before I leave the house. They’re written on a Post-It that lives on my desk, though by now I know them by heart. Water, coffee, banana, toast… This routine originated because I didn’t trust myself to make it out the door fed, hydrated, and in possession of my phone, keys, and race number in the pre-dawn hours. It has nothing to do with magic and everything to do with comfort. But I’ve found that if you do anything enough, and are met with even moderate results, there’s a pretty good chance it’ll shift from the stuff of habit into the realm of superstition.

If only it were this simple.

Practically, many of our most enduring superstitions — black cats, broken mirrors, spilled salt — have been around for centuries. Despite their broader origins, some can help us avoid real-world dangers. Walking under a ladder could result in injury, as could opening a spoked umbrella indoors.

But I’m more interested in practices meant to attract good fortune — the stuff of lucky charms, winning numbers, and everyday incantations (like saying “rabbit, rabbit” on the first of the month as Sarah Jessica Parker does on Instagram).

Magic aside, is it possible that from a scientific, research-backed perspective, a strategically employed superstition just might work?

Lest you think humans are special, please know we are not alone in our odd behaviors.

In a now-famous study, renowned psychologist B.F. Skinner placed several pigeons in cages equipped with automatic feeders. The birds wasted no time developing some curious mealtime moves. One would turn counterclockwise exactly three times before peering into its food basket. Another would dip its head and lift one foot. Each pigeon had its own dance, its own seemingly superstitious ritual to mark the occasion.

In truth, the pigeons would’ve been fed regardless of whether they performed their routines, but they didn’t know this. Typically plagued with anxiety over how or when their next meal would happen, they developed a series of actions, based on the same movements they made in the moments before food appeared. On the one hand, it helped to calm them. On the other, it seemed to guarantee results.

Human superstitions are largely the same. If we land on a favorable outcome, it’s within our nature to try to reproduce the circumstances to invite another positive result. Over time, we keep the superstition in place because we fear what might happen without it.

In other words, we’re all just pigeons dancing away, hoping for the next good thing.

“What, you think you’re better than me?” (As voiced by Joe Pesci.)

Of course, it’s one thing to be a bird whose next snack is just around the corner. It’s quite another to be a human navigating our modern hellscape while desperately clutching a penny for luck.

The good(ish) news is that some psychologists believe superstitions do have merit. It depends on the specifics.

In one study at the University of Cologne, researchers devised a series of tests, and in all of them, participants who engaged with “luck” performed significantly better than those who didn’t.

In one test, participants were given a golf ball and asked to make a series of putts. Those who were told they had a “lucky” golf ball sank 35 percent more of them than the participants who played with ordinary balls. In another, participants who were told to bring a lucky charm gave more correct answers on a memory test than those who weren’t.

Like a clover-shaped placebo, a strategically employed superstition can help reinforce a person’s belief in his or her abilities. They can also calm our nerves and give order or meaning to what often feels like a random, chaotic world. The trick is to keep the relationship somewhat casual — where we regard our personal superstitions as helpful, but not essential. (As fond as I am of my lucky running shorts, I’d like to believe I could race if they were in the laundry.)

Still, superstitions aren’t the most popular guests at the party.

Merriam-Webster defines “superstition” as: a belief or practice resulting from ignorance, fear of the unknown, trust in magic or chance, or a false conception of causation.

A resounding endorsement.

I’ve known plenty of people who scoff at the idea of superstitions. (Unsurprisingly, said folks are generally not into coincidence, nor do they care when the clock strikes 11:11.) But under closer observation, I’ve often discovered they have their own personal catalog of rituals, tics, and self-soothing behaviors. One person keeps their fingers tightly crossed when on important phone calls. Another builds words corresponding to their future wishes into computer passwords. A third always eats the same breakfast on the day of a big meeting.

Though they’d be loath to admit it, they have their own not-quite-superstitions, packaged in a way that works for them. However we define it, the terminology isn’t what matters. The point is how it makes us feel.

Unsurprisingly, celebrities are no strangers to peculiar beliefs and behaviors. Jennifer Aniston admitted she always boards a flight with her right foot first and taps the outside of the plane for luck. Heidi Klum once told Jay Leno that she carries a bag of her own baby teeth (!) with her at all times.

Writers are not immune. Charles Dickens carried a compass with him at all times and always slept facing north, which he believed improved his creativity. John Steinbeck wrote his books by hand, in pencil, using a perfectly sharpened Blackwing 602.

Perhaps more than any other sphere, the sports world is riddled with superstitions, which makes sense once you factor in how frequently athletes chase wins and records.

Michael Jordan, a graduate of North Carolina, always wore his UNC shorts under his Bulls uniform. Baseball Hall of Famer Wayne Boggs was known for his stringent adherence to superstitions. He always ran sprints at 7:17 pm. Before every game, he ate chicken (earning him the nickname “Chicken Man”), took exactly 150 practice hits, and wrote chai (the Hebrew word for life) in the dirt before each at-bat.

Serena Williams, veritable GOAT and subject of much press these past few weeks, has her own share of lucky behaviors. She bounces the ball five times before the first serve and two times before the second. She is known to tie her shoelaces in a very specific way, and to wear the same pair of socks throughout an entire tournament so long as she is winning. Personally, that’s all the evidence I need. If something works for her, who am I to judge?

If you haven’t yet read the Vogue essay in which Serena announced her retirement, I recommend it. There are many quotable lines and multiple invitations to reflect — on her incredible career, but also our attempts to measure success, and the ways our lives are shaped by time, choice, and circumstance.

The sound bite that keeps looping through my mind is this:

“My sister Venus once said that when someone out there says you can’t do something, it is because they can’t do it. But I did do it. And so can you.”

Whatever route we take — and whatever charms we bring along the way — is up to us. A dash of superstition may be fun and possibly even helpful. But much like the future we want it to shape, it’s ultimately in our hands.

Card of the Week

Here is this week’s card for the collective, as well as some thoughts to carry into the days ahead. As most modern readers will tell you, the tarot is not about fortunetelling, nor is it about neat, definitive answers. The cards are simply one path to reflection, a way of better knowing ourselves and others through universal themes. If this reading resonates with you, great! And if not, no worries. Take whatever may be helpful and leave the rest.

Featuring the Modest Mouse Tarot Deck, with art by Violet Aveline

The Ace of Pentacles is excited to be here today. As I went to choose this week’s card, it jumped out of the deck and skittered across the room where it landed face up. Point taken, message heard.

At the most basic level, aces symbolize beginnings — the start of new seasons, projects, patterns, and experiences. Pentacles symbolize things of value — generally money, property, material prosperity, and other earthly comforts.

Because of this, a lot of people look at the Ace of Pentacles and say, “Ah! The beginning of some auspicious journey.” Perhaps this rings true for you. Maybe you opened a new account, started a new job or venture, are reading a book about cryptocurrency or looking to buy property. It’s also possible you’re not quite there yet, but you’re pondering this new territory, gathering knowledge and steam.

If that resonates, great. It’s always nice to have a reminder that everything starts somewhere. Everything we see began with a seed, an idea, an intention.

That’s a perfectly lovely translation. It’s also a very literal one. When it comes to the Ace of Pentacles, I think there is another, more emotional message at play.

In order to dig deeper, let’s consider the imagery. Traditionally, this card often shows a hand emerging from the ether, holding a golden coin. It’s easy to think it must mean a windfall, an opportunity, an investment paying off. We just have to wait for an inordinately big hand to appear.

But what if it’s actually your hand? What if, instead of some otherworldly being, the person in the image is a fully realized version of you, because you have power? And what if we aren’t just talking about literal, bottom-line coin, but about the larger — and arguably more important — question of value?

Where pentacles symbolize value on the material plane, they also point to the things that are valuable about us. Our essence. Our effort. Our unique contributions to the world.

Married with the suit of pentacles, this card reminds us that we get to define — and redefine — value. We do this through what we prioritize. What we celebrate. What we uphold. What we create.

Maybe you grew up loving fashion magazines but now the sight of one makes you want to light it on fire. Maybe you spent the last decade firmly entrenched in hustle culture but are now embarking on a different approach. Maybe you’ve come to question some of the beliefs, figures, or institutions you once admired. Maybe you once measured your own “value” by a rigid set of criteria gifted by the outside world, but now you recognize that you bring a lot more to the table.

Whatever it may be, reassigning value is a sign of growth, a natural offshoot of learning, maturity, and progress. So go ahead, change your mind, and if you want to, change direction. That is how we change the world.

More than anything else, the Ace of Pentacles wants us to consider what we wish to build. Where do we want our roots to grow — not only the roots we come from, but the ones we get to plant for ourselves.

This card challenges us to ask, on a nearly constant basis, “What matters?” And ensure that our actions are in service to that. This is true on all levels, whether you’re considering your impact on a family, a company, a legacy, or a recipe for really amazing muffins.

You don’t have to build an empire. Nor must you contribute to an existing one. If that’s what’s in alignment for you, godspeed. But you (and your values) are in the driver’s seat.

You can decide what you have is enough. You can decide you want to expand your knowledge instead of your possessions, or become more aware of how you spend your time. You can decide the sky is the limit. You can decide to see value in nature, in spirituality, in self.

The point is, not only does value come in a lot of forms, but so does our pursuit of it. The Ace of Pentacles sees us at the beginning of a journey. Sometimes it takes us into an elevator, other times to a forest. No one choice is better than another. But one might be better for us.

In the days ahead, the Ace of Pentacles encourages us to notice where we place our attention and how that plays out in the physical world. Are we taking good care of our selves, our cares, our causes? As you consider the world you’d like to create, be open. Be receptive. And above all, be brave.

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