Lady Luck and the Danube

We make our own luck, they say...

May 29, 2025

I’ve just driven 2500 kilometres across Europe. For a reasonable stretch of that journey, I was chugging merrily alongside the River Danube. What a river that is! With her wide green banks and ample water, she’s Europa’s fat gleaming artery of abundance. Her 2800 kilometres wind through ten countries, and since ancient times she’s been the flowing heart of European trade and fortune. The Thraco-Phyrigian name for the Danube was Matoas, meaning “bringer of luck”, after all.

Luck. Yes, I did feel lucky as I crossed from Passau in Germany into Austria. From there, I embarked on one of the most beautiful stages in my voyage, motoring gently alongside the plump Dornau, her lush banks flooding my windscreen with a forest of green.

I felt lucky for many reasons, but the main thing in my mind was, “By Jove, I didn’t realise I’d be driving next to the Danube!” You may shake your head at that. How didn’t I know? Didn’t I plan the route?

The answer to that is, yes and no. I had planned the parts that mattered: New tyres for the car, checking any documents needed, a rough calculation of the journey time, and the days I needed to comfortably arrive in Bulgaria on time for my next workshops. But the minutiae of the route? That evolved day by day. It depended on how I felt when I arrived each night, traffic situations, roadworks, recommendations that came my way, and whim. I didn’t want my trip to be throttled by a cage of schedules. I wanted it to flow, just like Lady Luck the Danube herself.

Back at the Beginning

Before I began this journey, whenever I mentioned I was driving to Bulgaria, eyes widened. People quietened as they considered it. More honest folk used the word “daunting”, while others remained rather still. Someone might have called me nuts. But those of us who have adventured a while in this world know only too well, it’s at the point of no return that we begin to call in the larger unseen parts of us. Fortune really does favour the brave. Not the foolhardy. Not the suicidal. But the brave.

There is a very fine balance between “flow” and hapless disorganisation. Luck isn’t the same as chance, you see. It isn’t a reckless bet on the roulette wheel of life, fingers and toes crossed. Yet it isn’t a Herculean feat of foreplanning either.

There’s an anguine thread to follow, a channel that streams between two distinct cultures, neither who drink from the waters of luck. On the northern bank we have the superplanners, and while they may catch the boat, they often feel dissatisfied by the ride. Meanwhile over on the other bank, the muddlers are missing all the opportunities. They end up adrift God only knows where, with nothing particularly inspiring manifesting for them.

Lady Luck isn’t control, yet she isn’t pure happenstance either. Understanding this is the nub of creating an extraordinary life. In real terms what this means is this: We organise what is ours to feasibly organise, and this action sends the message to all existence that we are serious about our mission. Why should the universe bother to step in, if we haven’t lifted a finger ourselves? But even for the greatest administrators alive, eventually either energy or time runs out. We’ve done what we can. It’s time to set off. Now we’re in the hands of fate. Or...if we can communicate consciously with the field around us, luck.

Byroads

Back on the road, I found myself chugging over a bridge out of Passau. The bulbous domes of St Stephen’s cathedral sank into a delta of Rococo streets and out of sight. A benign spring sun gilded the bridge railings as a flank of thicketed hills rose in front of me.

Mostly on this trip I avoided motorways, tedious and noisy as they are. With their faceless service stations and boring views, they leave me with nothing but stiff shoulders and frog eyes. The byroads by contrast are always full of surprises, as they roll through old villages, fields and forests. And the Danube was one such gift.

Ahh how uplifted I felt to have this great river by my side as I drove and drove and drove. The Danube and I traversed borders, languages, and cultures, separating and joining again. The element of water was with me, a fluid and mutable channel of life. She carried barges, pleasure boats, cargo, and cruisers as she wended on her way, linking Passau to Linz and Vienna. For most of Austria she drifted close, and I crossed from this verdant bank to that, realising just how much I loved the road: The discoveries around each corner, the changes in menu, the perceptible shift from West to East as Austria became Hungary.

All too soon, the emerald mountains flattened into agrarian plains. I slid a little south while the Danube chugged away from me on her way to Budapest.

The Great Connector

The Danube is Europe’s great connector. Quite a feat in a continent of constant bickerers. Sadly, we humans have become rather separist, and it renders us small and incapacitated. We live in a world where we have bought into the idea of “us” or “them”, always trying to keep the outside out and the inside in. Yet, power and luck can’t flow to those who remain locked inside the cages of themselves, pitted against a world of phantom “others”. I say phantom, because if they are “others” it’s only because we don’t yet know them. To know them, we must connect.

In truth, just like the Danube, we stretch far beyond our borders, our influence seeping into places we can’t even pronounce. On even the most fundamental levels, we are not separate from anything. The air we breathe knows no borders, and the water we drink has been through many other humans, trees, and soils. But to experience fortune and fullness, we need to see that existence is a conversation between equals rather than a domination game. When we approach it this way, when we take responsibility for what we can do and delegate what we can’t to something larger, the magic happens: We get lucky.

Eastwards

Eventually, Austria and her glorious cow speckled mountains was in the rear view. Before I entered Hungary, I separated from my watery companion, driving southeast into the rural landscapes of Romania. I passed medieval townships and thick forested mountains, hot springs and roaring rivers, until at last I reached the Bulgarian border.

And what do you know? Suddenly, there she was again! The Danube river, stout and proud as she drifted between those two countries on her own endless voyage to the Black Sea.

Thus I crossed this amazing waterway one last time, slowly rattling over the iron bridge that connected Romania to her Balkan neighbour. Perhaps it was serendipitous that there were roadworks halfway across so that I could say a proper goodbye. The lorry in front of me groaned and screeched to a standstill. I followed suit. Smiling, I wound down my window and saluted my generous travel partner as she rippled and rolled beneath me.

Thank you Lady Luck. It’s been quite the ride.