I’m just a poor boy
Though my story’s seldom told
I have squandered my resistance
For a pocketful of mumbles
Such are promises.
The hardest thing I have
ever done is to have confessed doubts. Doubts about promises and commitments
made to/by those that matter to me. Realistic doubts about whether things will
withstand, whether I shall deliver.
I’ve grown to demand
strength of myself. And honesty. And a burning sense of optimism that
has more to do with strength and honesty than is apparent.
It’s laughably easy to
call yourself an optimist, isn’t it? It only requires you to think things will
fall in place just fine, right? Added bonus: it makes you sound bright and
sunny and rather like that delightful little sanguine creature everyone loved
in that new movie. Marvellous. Positivity to add to the good vibes in the
Universe.
But a true sense of
optimism presupposes a conviction about the issue at hand, as does a true sense
of pessimism. A conviction born of an honest evaluation - where “honest
evaluation” is a neat case of redundancy - of your own work and input; an evaluation that
reeks of integrity. An evaluation that is founded on a reasonable standard; one
that is its own defence in a rational argument. It’s an optimistic remark only
when the evaluation suggests things are going good and are likely to. Optimism
has more to do with your own ability, strength and the willingness to be true
to indicators of their performance, than not. It’s realism on a good day, in a situation with good prep.
It’s too bad, then, that
the same rules apply to doubts. A doubt is not about imagining things, nor is
it about wanting to complicate matters. It’s not about cynicism or jinxing
commitments and it’s certainly not about going back on your word. It’s an
honest evaluation that reeks of integrity – even when you wish it didn’t, even
when such an evaluation is the last thing you want to collide with. And its
inevitable appendage is trust in the parameters of evaluation, which translates
to strength to voice the doubt.
Perhaps it’s hard to confess
those doubts because your standard of parameters is your own. You can’t be sure
if it is shared by one other or a million others. Your idea of reason may or
may not match another’s. But if it’s honest and just and free of contradictions
and irrationality, chances are you’re thinking straight.
Find something inside of
you that must be shared with those outside. Write about it. Find something
inside of you that must be shared with the insiders. Do it. Write about it. Honestly. Thus
ends a note to myself, one tucked away for future use.
