Just yesterday I was thinking about optimism, pessimism, and the in-between. I wondered what I might tell a gymnasium full of high school graduates about life, and the slogan, “Enough is Possible” chanted in my mind. It was a slogan that was visually displayed in the window of an art gallery I passed by every day to and from work. Yesterday, the painting was gone. The entire windowed space was whitewashed, and I never found out the artist.
Optimism, the notion that anything is achievable. It is, truly, but if you spend enough time with an optimist you find they aren’t as grounded in the fundamental concept of reality. They visit failure, but bounce back up off that trampoline aiming for the sky; never stuck in the mud with realists for very long. Over-achievers viewing life through rose-colored glasses hoping you too see the sunlight.
Pessimist, the curmudgeons of life. Afraid of disappointment, this person doesn’t feel inclined to live among the clouds. After all, clouds are nothing more than condensation and you can’t very well stand on one without falling through, so what’s the point in trying? They’re right, but mostly miserable because deep down they want the optimist’s trampoline.
I live in the middle space where “Enough is Possible.” It’s nice watching clouds change shape in the sky from where I stand.