Outcomes are rarely pure skill. They’re a blend: effort, timing, randomness, and forces nobody controls. The problem is that we like clean stories, so we give success a halo and failure a stain—then we pretend the world is fair enough to reward the “right” people.
But luck and risk are siblings. If a great win required conditions that could easily have gone the other way, then the win is never a perfect blueprint. And if a disaster was partly bad timing or bad geography, the disaster is not a perfect indictment.
This changes how you judge. Admiration becomes more humble. Condemnation becomes less eager. You can still learn from people—but you stop treating their results as proof of their virtue.
And it changes how you plan. You stop building your future as if the world owes you a predictable response. You build it as if uncertainty is normal—because it is.