The Mah Jongg Principle

We can't always solve Fate's mysteries, but not all events are beyond us.  Until a few years ago I assumed, like most people, that what was past my control was best accepted as such.  Then I discovered the Mah Jongg Principle.  Its concept is simple but breathtaking: the way to get what you want is to stop wanting it.  Like the wheel, like fire, this discovery brings unbelievable power.  With it the impossible can be accomplished.

The rule bears the name it does because of a Mah Jongg set my aunt received when I was nine.  The tiles and racks of the set were the most beautiful things I'd ever seen.  I sat for hours watching my aunt play and wishing for‑-no, lusting after‑-that game.  Since I wasn't the secretive type, anyone around me soon heard what I wanted for my birthday.  I ate, slept, bathed, and did homework talking about Mah Jongg sets.  With commendable foresight I even learned how to play the game so they wouldn't think my request absurd.

My birthday came, but no tiles.  Callously I considered running away from home.  I gave up that plan only because I realized that people insensitive enough to thwart my deepest desire wouldn't regret my abandoning them anyway.  Denied thus any hope of vengeance, I stayed, but it was months before I forgave them.

However, a few years ago my aunt received another Mah Jongg set.  Since she felt owning two was hoggish, to say nothing of space consuming, she kindly sent her old one to me.  It was with quite a shock that I realized not only did I have a set, but I had the very one I'd coveted so many years before. 

Of course, I no longer wanted the darn thing‑-I was a confirmed bridge addict, and some kind soul had already bought me a pack of cards.  But I kept the Mah Jongg set anyway, along with the powerful knowledge it had brought.

Knowing that one isolated case doesn't prove a principle, I experimented carefully.  My data showed that the rule invariably held: wishes are granted only after one stops making them.  You may have to wait twenty years or so for results, but you can wait in the comfort of certainty‑-the Mah Jongg principle will triumph.

Nor does it always take decades to do so; sometimes the effect is immediate.  For instance, it's a cold, blustery day and you're waiting for the bus.  You're tired, none of the stores had what you wanted, and you left your gloves home.  You can no longer feel your fingers, and not only is the bus late, but the one scheduled to arrive after yours hasn't showed up either.  Apply the Mah Jongg Principle. 

Walk to that diner two and a half blocks from the bus corner and order some hot chocolate.  Before they get the whipped cream on, your bus will pull up.  You may not catch it, of course, and you'll certainly have to give up the cocoa, but at least you'll have had the satisfaction of making life give you what you once wanted.

The feeling of power you get by so controlling Fate is awe inspiring.  You can make phones ring by taking showers, have company for an afternoon by painting the front door knocker, and drop twenty pounds by buying a wardrobe in the next larger size.  So let me hear no complaints about Fate and its fickle finger.  What you want is yours, providing you stop wanting it.  The matter is completely in your hands.