I was at a meeting last night where I felt like I was the only optimist in the room. It's a weird feeling. I'm so used to being optimistic myself and being around my family of optimists, that I came away from the meeting agitated and somewhat distressed.
The folks there admittedly had a boatload of problems. Mine seem small by comparison. Yet my problems are large enough on the scale at which I operate.
These folks kept talking about taking medicines and relying on doctors and social workers to get them out of their slumps. Now, I'm not dissing any of those helpmates! I've needed them all myself at one time or another.
What bothered me was that they talked very little about what they can do for themselves to feel better. That's where that pessimism came in.
Here's an example:
One person mentioned that a family member had written his own obituary. They assumed that meant that the family member was about to kill himself.
That seemed like a pessimistic jump to a conclusion, and I said so. How can anyone assume to know what was going through that writer's head if they didn't bother asking?
I've written my own obituary. But it was a wonderful exercise. I got to imagine all my best friends and loved ones gathered together to celebrate my life, to tell each other what they knew of me and loved about me. I got to write out what might be put in the local newspaper about my life story.
What it did was give me the chance to ask myself, "What do I hope is said about me when that time comes?"
And by doing so, I get to try and live to that vision. It's anything but pessimistic.
If my life is a mess — and sometimes it is — why should I wait for someone or something other than myself to plop a miracle on me? I don't think of it as "pulling myself up by my bootstraps" so much as simply asking, "What one little thing can I do right now to go in the direction I want my life to head?"
Then do that one little thing.
My life will change for the better ...
the miracle is me.
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