Throughout history, people have been drawn to the idea of luck as a mystical force that determines success and failure. From ancient oracles to lottery tickets, luck represents the alluring belief that life can be transformed not by effort or design, but by mere chance. But this belief is often a mental shortcut—an illusion that masks the far more complex and demanding reality of preparation, timing, discipline, and personal responsibility. In most cases, what we call luck is merely the visible result of invisible labor: months or years of unseen effort aligning with a fleeting opportunity. As Seneca observed nearly 2,000 years ago, “Luck is what happens when preparation meets opportunity.” His insight remains one of the most powerful demolitions of the idea that luck exists as a force independent of our decisions.
First, we must dismantle the notion that luck is a preordained or random gift bestowed upon a few chosen ones. In fact, most apparent “lucky breaks” are only visible once they have intersected with consistent preparation. Consider an investor who spots an undervalued stock and capitalizes on a market upswing. To an outsider, this may look like serendipity—but to the investor who spent sleepless nights analyzing data, understanding patterns, and preparing a strategy, this moment was not random; it was earned. In sports, too, “lucky” goals are often the result of relentless training and strategic positioning. Novak Djokovic’s miraculous returns or Messi’s instinctive goals are not products of divine favor—they are the fruits of thousands of hours of silent preparation converging with the perfect second. What we call “luck” is often just the moment when preparation is exposed to the world.
However, not all who encounter opportunity are equally equipped to act on it. There exists a sharp distinction between those who act swiftly and decisively and those who freeze in wonderment. Many individuals, upon recognizing a chance, become paralyzed by excitement or disbelief. Their joy becomes a distraction; their hesitation costs them everything. A powerful illustration comes from trading: a well-timed opportunity to buy a stock before a rally requires not only foresight but also nerve. The trader who hesitates, lost in the thrill of the potential profit or disbelief that the setup is truly perfect, often misses the window entirely. Or take the footballer who sees the goal wide open, begins to celebrate mentally before finishing the play, and then misfires—his joy became his downfall. In such moments, emotion replaces focus, and anticipation overtakes execution. Luck does not reward spectators; it rewards actors who stay calm, deliberate, and present.
Yet, many people are not even trying to catch opportunities because they’ve already given themselves a way out. This escape mechanism is what I call the “fake superiority complex.” It is a form of cognitive defense where individuals justify their lack of results by denying the merit of others. When they see a classmate excel, a peer launch a successful business, or a sibling make a wise life choice, they don't reflect on their own laziness or missteps—they dismiss it as “luck.” This psychological barrier protects the ego but imprisons potential. Instead of learning from others or adjusting course, they cling to the fiction that fate simply favors others. It's not that they failed to prepare—it’s just that others were “lucky.” This attitude erodes the foundation of growth. No one can improve without first acknowledging their own deficiencies and respecting the effort of those who achieve. In this way, the myth of luck becomes a shield for pride and a trap for the unambitious.
Even more insidious is the case of those who come to believe they are permanently blessed by luck. This belief creates a dangerous sense of invincibility and entitlement. Because they succeeded once or twice—perhaps due to inherited wealth, fortunate timing, or a lucky gamble—they begin to behave as if success is inevitable and automatic. These individuals start to neglect the core disciplines that produced their earlier wins. Students stop studying because they passed an exam “without trying”; entrepreneurs over-leverage because their first venture went viral; partners neglect communication assuming love will endure by default. Over time, this false confidence produces decay. When reality catches up and failure sets in, they don’t blame their recklessness—they simply say, “My luck ran out.” This creates a dramatic identity shift: from “I am lucky” to “I am cursed,” both positions denying personal agency. The problem was never luck—it was the abandonment of determinism and effort.
Then there’s the moral objection to the idea of extreme and uneven luck. If we allow that luck is a real force that operates independently of merit, we must also accept a world in which hard work can be meaningless and mediocrity can be endlessly rewarded. But we don’t see this in most spheres of life. The most consistent winners in business, sports, and science are often those who study longer, practice harder, and endure more setbacks. While chance may play a role in isolated events, it rarely accounts for repeated excellence. To say Bill Gates, Roger Federer, or Marie Curie were merely “lucky” is to insult decades of obsession, sacrifice, and persistence. Even in systems shaped by inequality or randomness, it is almost always the case that those who put in effort, refine their approach, and stay vigilant outperform those who wait for fate to bless them.
Even if we grant the possibility that luck exists, it becomes implausible to imagine it being so grotesquely uneven. Can we really believe that some are born to succeed with zero effort while others are doomed to fail regardless of relentless work? Life does not operate on such arbitrary injustice. More often, those who appear to have everything have simply made more sacrifices, studied patterns better, seized moments faster, or mastered their emotions deeper. If luck plays a role, it dances closest to those who stay ready. An immigrant who builds a life in a foreign country, a person who recovers from trauma and reinvents themselves, a student who climbs out of academic failure to earn a scholarship—these stories are not about luck. They are about grit, determination, and a refusal to surrender. In fact, it’s often the people who experience the least “luck” who understand best how to turn hardship into fuel.
Ultimately, the belief in luck is comforting—but deceptive. It absolves us from responsibility and numbs the sting of failure. But this comfort comes at a high price: it prevents us from understanding the mechanics of success and taking control of our trajectory. We must replace the language of luck with the language of readiness. Success is not a prize drawn at random—it is a bridge between preparation and the fleeting nature of opportunity. Those who succeed are often those who never stopped preparing, even when no opportunities were in sight.
To free ourselves from the myth of luck is to reclaim our agency. It is to acknowledge that we are not merely players waiting for a dice roll—we are strategists, builders, and decision-makers. Even if luck does exist in some mysterious way, we should behave as if it doesn’t. Because the only formula we can rely on is: Effort + Timing + Presence = Reward.The rest is noise, myth, excuse, and fallacy.