"THE ACTS of your days on days make a certain-shaped thing of you. Then in
the rhythm of life the influences too big for control strike a sharp blow
or stroke or influence or vibration of some kind, that overcomes your own
plan or sense of direction. And this same stroke arranges your
relationships quite automatically. Suddenly you fit into the place where
the thing you shaped will go with mathematical nicety. It is as though a
lot of scattered things were dancing about; and CLAP! they were all in a
pattern. You call it fate, or luck, or destiny, but all the time it is
just the preparation of your days on days, your own deliberate handiwork.
It is as though we were all put through graded sieves that suddenly
reveal our sizes to ourselves; where usually we are all so mixed together
that you could not measure. No amount of jiggling could shake you into a
place you did not fit, for which you had not shaped yourself. Only when
you are too inert to shape yourself, are you at the mercy of the Pattern
Maker." ---Across The Unknown
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