An excerpt from “Daisies” by Mary Oliver:
…What do I know.
But this: it is heaven itself to take what is given,
to see what is plain; what the sun
lights up willingly; for example–I think this
as I reach down, not to pick but merely to touch–
the suitability of the field for the daisies, and the
daisies for the field.
After realizing how my skewed “sunny-side up” view of the world contributed to the breakup of my marriage (because I simply wasn’t able to see what was in front of my eyes since I was so comfortable in my own view of the world), I decided I should probably tone down my rosy-colored outlook. It seemed that I would be better served by having a more realistic, perhaps even more somber, perspective. I began to wonder if I even really felt the events of my breakup, since even in the dark times so many moments of beauty came bubbling through. And even in the midst of those first few awful days, I could still see so much good on the horizon. What was wrong with me, I wondered, that I didn’t cry and scream and yell and melt into a ball of sorrow? Instead, I wandered gardens and embraced friends and enjoyed my children.
My insistence on optimism is a long-honed skill that stems from the difficulties of living with a disability and the residue of having survived cancer, as well as a variety of other personal setbacks. I simply can’t seem to sit in the midst of a storm without seeing a silver lining. I deliberately choose happiness over sorrow, every time. Like the poem fragment above, I believe in “taking what is given” and seeing the light, whatever difficulties are thrown my way.
But I don’t sit around with my head in the sand denying life’s cruelties, either. For example, for my dissertation research I purposefully chose to study the awfulness of life. Children suffering from horrific incurable diseases. Scores of soldiers dying for want of care. I pore over case studies of bodies mangled by machinery, or injured by the foolishness of quack remedies. I hold these stories in my heart, trying to make sense of a world where people suffer so often and so deeply (and, so needlessly)…
But I think you can know the awful and still see the beauty. Which reminds me of a favorite quote from The Man of La Mancha:
When life itself seems lunatic, who knows where madness lies? Perhaps to be too practical is madness. To surrender dreams — this may be madness…Too much sanity may be madness — and maddest of all: to see life as it is, and not as it should be!
You know what, Jana? This is why I admire you. I try, and fail regularly, to do the same thing. You manage it so much better than I do, and that, my dear, makes you someone to be admired. So there. 🙂
Jana,
This is one of the very important qualities of a resilient person. While it is clearly important to sit with the emotions of difficult things and learn from the mistakes we have made (otherwise, of course, we repeat them again), it is also incredibly important to be able to connect with the important, good and positive things therein.
My divorce was no fun; it was incredibly painful at so many levels. But I also clearly see that it has benefited both myself and my ex. I see that he is with someone that is clearly a far better match to his interests and capacities. I think this second chance he has is rich with amazing potential, despite the challenges they will face with their blended family.
I also understand for myself that despite the destruction of the divorce, it also meant that I have had an amazing opportunity to heal, to learn self-reliance, true independence, and self-responsibility (as well as self-compassion) in ways I would never have had in my previous relationship.
There have been dark times indeed that I don’t wish to revisit, but I honestly don’t think that being an eternal optimist is wrong. So long as you can clearly understand where you need to grow, where you need to make changes, and that you pursue that actively, that is the key really. Your optimism shall help keep your face to the sunshine.
All the love!
Thanks for this, Jana. I’m not an eternal optimist, but I’m grateful to know people who are.
This truly is a great piece. I think for those of us with chronic disabilities (not to make light of your very long road) this is often how we have to see the world, even if sometimes it feels disjointed. I too concentrate on suffering (by rescuing llamas and other animals and working in food pantries, etc.)but tend to always see through rose covered lenses. Is it wrong, no, it is what keeps me sane in this mad, mad world.
I so completely agree with what you have written Jana. Early on in life I had to learn to both see life as it was but also to see beyond that. Yes, there is horror in life. But there is inevitably some beauty. I’ve just come to see that humor gets me through every time. That and noticing the little things. I could give in to life, and sometimes I do, but then something pops up (like the sun shining on melting snow) and my perspective changes again.