optimism

A friend wrote late last night in response to yesterday’s “intentional vacuum” blog entry to tell me how much he admires my optimism.

I responded that in all honesty, if it weren’t for my optimism, I’d probably be dead by now.

The people who know me reasonably well will understand that statement. Maybe this has to do with something a spiritual counselor I know calls “potentiality” — the ability to see the highest potential a person has within him/herself, even if that person isn’t embodying it at the moment. Somewhat along the lines of what Anne Frank wrote in her diary:

Despite everything, I believe that people are really good at heart.

Or maybe it’s because looking for the bright side in just about everything is an easy way to keep sane.

For instance, even though I’m in the midst of getting my heart broken, I’m keeping focused on the positive aspects of my most recent relationship. For one, even though I’d not been with anyone in a long time and had been afraid of getting involved again, I discovered that I’m actually rather good at being close to someone. It’s comfortable. I like it. That was a happy surprise. Also, I learned that I do want to marry and raise a child with my husband — again, something I’d not known previously.

These are good things to know about myself, and this allows me to hold a vision of what I want to create moving forward.

The tricky part of that, however, is not getting emotionally attached to specific outcomes. Building a vision of what I want that involves specific institutions, objects, people, places, timelines, or other details can fuel expectations that more often than not will get dashed on the rocks. It is, as my mother likes to say, a matter of holding the vision alongside the mantra, "This, or something better."

So I’m still generally hopeful, and am becoming more practiced — through trial and error — in the art of detached optimism.