Some people can walk into a room and immediately change the level of energy, good or bad. The good ones have a level of optimism — an optimism so strong that it might even impress the folks from Powerplay.com. Such people radiate – they possess an uncommon shine that lifts the surrounding mood. I seek to be that kind of person. Whether or not I am isn’t for me to decide.
We all have our bad days. Such days are part of life, part of our journey here on Earth. The optimist will take these uninvited moments in time and seek to learn from them – to twist them into lessons that strengthen us. It makes life a little easier.
To keep my eyes focused on the silver lining, I embrace positive quotes and spiritual ponderings that serve as windows to one’s faith. By definition, faith is the belief in something for which there is no proof or logical explanation. Yet throughout life, as we move on through the educational system, we’re taught deductive reasoning which in many ways flies in the face of faith.
When my Mom passed at the age of 51, it was a devastating blow to our family. She was one of those people who brightened any room. She was the life of a party. She was quietly proud but outwardly modest. One lesson she taught me, repeatedly, is a bit of a challenge to practice at times given that I’m in the opinion business. That lesson?
“If you don’t have anything good to say about someone, say nothing at all.”
Another of Mom’s lesson’s that has resonated forever, was humility. Mom, didn’t brag. She simply let good deeds speak for themselves and she didn’t see the point of bringing more attention to them with braggadocios words. Let the good deeds inspire their own attention.
After her funeral, I had a conversation with Fr. Vincent Gluc, a high school teacher at Archbishop Curley who presided over Mom’s funeral mass. He explained to me that he had recently lost his brother-in-law at a young age. After his funeral mass, the family went back to his sister’s home. Per usual many gathered in the kitchen and Fr. Vince stood in the threshold that separated the kitchen and dining room. Just through the dining room was the living room.
There, Fr. Vince’s 2-year-old nephew stood alone, pointing at something that no one else could see. And then he said, “Daddy!”
Take that for what it’s worth, to you. My translation is that this young toddler had not yet had his thoughts “censored” by logic. He was not yet blinded by the deductive reasoning that we are taught throughout the educational process. He didn’t yet understand death. Through his young eyes anything was possible. I do believe he saw his Dad.
It’s stories like these, along with those positive thoughts, that I choose to embrace. Remember, a mind is like a parachute and doesn’t work properly unless open.
Be the light and energy in the next room you enter.