Whereas a person suffering from paranoia feels that persons or entities are conspiring against them, a person experiencing pronoia feels that the world around them conspires to do them good. ~ Wikipedia What if half of a random pair of latex gloves chanced upon on the verandah is the very thing you need to pick invasive bugs off the persimmon tree? And what of synchronicity, as when you rebook an earlier return flight then get home just in time to hear news of a long dormant volcano's eruption? It spewed such thick gas emissions, all airports shut down from impaired atmospheric visibility. Mabuti na lang, you say to each other; it's a good thing. As if a voice whispered from the asteroid field of your brain to say, like Luke Skywalker on first seeing the Death Star, I have a bad feeling about this. The important receipt turns up faded but still readable and dry after the laundry cycle. A lump in the breast is merely tissue thick as a spoonful of cold oatmeal, not a ticking time bomb. So many narrow escapes, so many little windfalls for which you're grateful—as if an unseen hand rights the wing mirror and a lurching vehicle crosses your blind spot, so in the nick of time you manage to get out of the way.