Finding the lucky formula
(PhysOrg.com) -- Emotions are overrated -- especially that peculiar sensation one gets when purchasing a lottery ticket -- that combination of hopefulness and psychotic joy at the vast array of scenarios instantly available upon purchase of that little slip of paper.
This brief emotional swell or spike is fed by a belief that it is possible for the briefest of moments to tap into the great cosmic chaos of time and probability and discern the pattern of fortune. It is not the compulsive emotional pull that draws an addict, but it is discernible enough to make us part with $2. It is that instant when you say to yourself, I feel lucky.
Perhaps it is the smile the lottery clerk shows you or the encouraging words of a stranger. After all there is anecdotal evidence that proves if a lottery retailer says, That's the winner, then millions will befall, even if this is the same statement he or she makes to the next 500 customers. Perhaps it is fi nding a lucky penny that causes the irrational luck-spike resulting in the purchase of the $2 ticket, despite the fact you have walked over many of these pennies previously but couldn't be bothered to put your fingers into a filthy oil-covered puddle to retrieve them. The luck-spike causes you to bow to temptation.
Of course I have also purchased tickets solely out of duty as the agreed-upon purchasing agent in an offi ce lotto group. (Sorry Maryann, I did not have any lucky feelings whatsoever when buying those.) Yet later, when looking at the numbers generated by the computer, I determined that these numbers were indeed lucky. On rare occasions I have been so unimpressed with a series of numbers, given their unlucky vibe, that a secondary backup ticket was purchased in its stead.
Too afraid -- and superstitious -- to pick a regular series of numbers that might come up winners if I neglected to buy a ticket, I have resorted to selecting numbers in an arbitrary fashion if inspired by a luck-spike. Once it happened when noticing the periodic table displayed on the wall of St. George Street entrance to the Wallberg Building. So convinced was I that somehow elements represented as numbers could be arranged to pick winning lottery combinations that I carried a chart around for several weeks until realizing that the previous week's winning number was full of elements: magnesium, scandium, manganese, zinc, niobium, technetium, the bonus number being cadmium.
The trick is knowing this beforehand. I have used numbers from a fi sherman's float discovered on the Oregon coast and can now testify that it is equally as difficult to pick winning Powerball numbers as it is to select winning lotto 649 numbers. Just as it is equally as hard to determine which kernels out of a handful of popcorn will be the first six to pop.
Yet after years of listening to the moans of losing ticket holders, myself included, it occurred to me that the vast majority of us don't mind losing one bit. In fact there is a secondary emotion, a sort of calming resolve that turns into camaraderie and solidarity. After all it was just a little cosmic joke on us mortals who smugly believed we could peek into the cosmic calculator. And this secondary, less vibrant, emotion, this downward lull, offers relief as we realize that all those grandiose plans do not have to be pursued, plans such as the design my friend Ken and I had to do what many of us here feel fully qualifi ed to do -- start our own university. Oh how grand it would have been!
Acceptance is another emotion that cannot be overrated when it allows one to cope with the enormous loss of imaginary millions. Good luck to the winners. Perhaps they, too, will long for those lazy, hazy days of emotional peace -- to be undisturbed by the notion that another fellow somewhere has tripped over a winning combination.
My very best consolation wishes to all whose numbers were not selected. SPOILER ALERT: If you are still keen, somewhere in this article is hidden the winning combination of numbers to the next lucky draw.
Provided by University of Toronto
