Ages ago, I heard someone say . . .

“I don’t think the universe should be set up to accommodate my personal preferences”

I wish I’d made a note of who said it. I’ve kept it ever since as a reminder of a rather lovely, modest commentary. An opportunity to remember that there are others in our lives worthy of our attention and our love.

More recently, I heard that the Dalai Lama has given his approval to a course of evening classes being made available in the UK to make it ‘a happier and more caring place,’ and listening to this idea being debated on the radio, I was taken with something said by Canon Rosie Harper, vicar of Great Missenden and chaplain to the bishop of Buckingham (see, this time I took note on who said what). She suggested that . . .

• happiness doesn’t equal jolly-ness
• being happy means you have compassion for yourself and for others
• when you’re happy, you can be honest with people

Well, to someone like me who reckons they’re fairly comfortable in the confidence and self-actualisation stakes, this was more than a little pleasing to my ears. Both my anonymous commentator, and Canon Rosie, seemed to make sense.  Sometimes we should put others before our own needs, be modest, be happy, be honest . . . and be positive.

And so I’ve been reflecting on what positivity means.

Many years ago someone accused me . . . for there was no other interpretation . . . of being too positive:

“The problem with you Christine is that you’re always glass half-full.”

That hurt. And please let’s be clear. I’m separating that hurtful comment from the rather lovely ones I get from people who know me well, who admire me for my positivity. Often they’re reminding me about it because it’s in contrast to how they’re feeling in a particular moment . . . and I know they do this simply as an observation of my personality. There’s no malice intended. (Hmm, note to self: you would say that, Christine, wouldn’t you?)

But back then I didn’t have the confidence to challenge the glass half-full comment, and instead, found myself apologising for being me. Outrageous, I know . . . and I’ve evolved a bit since then. Of course I have. I’ve had to get used to that hard-knock world I live in . . . to the negativity and mistrust and resigned resistance that I see at every turn. (Yes, I might be naturally positive but that doesn’t mean I’m not a realist.)

It also helped to learn that researchers at the University of Michigan identified that some of us are genetically programmed to be positive or negative. The levels of a fabulous little molecule called neuropeptide Y apparently determine how we deal with stressful situations, our susceptibility to depression, and the way we express emotion.

And . . . the study of happiness is now an accepted international discipline, and positive psychology is a field that explores how people can become happier and more fulfilled.

All good stuff, and it falls into my hands where I’m safely holding the belief that it’s OK to be optimistic.  Naturally, I’m not going to miss an opportunity to spin even the slightest hint of negativity into a positive.

But next time someone is thinking of accusing me of being naive, or optimistic, or upbeat, I’d love it if they took a moment to think . . .

• Being positive isn’t about having a permanent smile on my face at the expense of your misery or doubt
• I’ve had a few hairy moments of my own of late, yet I’ve chosen to keep those from you, and have tried to be positive in the face of adversity – because that’s what gets me through; please don’t knock me for it
• I do take off my bright sunshine, rose-tinted lenses frequently – seeing things in black and white is what keeps me rooted, and I make it my business to be curious about what makes you very different to me so that perhaps we can understand each other even better
• I can sympathise and empathise with the best of you . . . but I won’t fail you when you need a home truth; don’t be surprised if sometimes I disagree
• Please expect me to challenge you – I won’t always be smiling sweetly

And most importantly . . .

• Please accept that I also believe in choice (neuropeptide Y or not).  I’ve seen the destruction that can be caused by continually refuting or rejecting results, decisions, changes – what life offers you – and I’m not sure I want to subscribe.

I choose, wherever I can, to remain optimistic.

It’s a bit lonely out here.  Care to join me?