What's your default mood? Your most natural facial expression? Do you wake up annoyed? Offended by the world that it spun while you slept and brought the sun back around to your window again? Do you drive to work with a deep sigh, resigning yourself to a day of unreasonable requests from your boss, the aftermath of bad decisions made by coworkers, inane emails from clients, and an out-of-order snack machine to boot? Do you return home to your family in a tired, frazzled huff, nerves frayed and brain fried? And then, does your heart sink to your toes when you realize it's only Monday?
I've observed this is pretty much the default attitude of most people. We feel entitled to ease, leisure, comfort, and to the world parting its seas and rivers to let us pass unhindered. When the coffeepot leaks all over the counter or when I forget the salad dressing for my lunch or I have to cover for a coworker who's on vacation or when the traffic light turns red, it's easy to act as if the universe has conspired to make my day particularly miserable. Things should just be perfect, shouldn't they?
No. They shouldn't. We're living in a very broken, disintegrating world where few things will go our way. Instead of expecting them to, we would all do better to put on a pair of rose-colored glasses, or at least to remove the storm-cloud-colored ones we seem to see the world through most of the time. Here's a little sample of how I aim to put on some rose-colored glasses this week.
Scenario #1: I'm driving. Two lanes are merging. A driver flies up on my left to cut off not only me, but also as many cars ahead of me as possible before the road narrows.
Stormy reaction: "What are you doing, you moron!? Gosh, I wish people would have a little courtesy!"
Rosy reaction: Slow down to avoid an accident with a hasty and foolish driver. Take a deep breath and smile, thankful that nowhere I'm going is so urgent that I feel the need to put lives at risk to get there.
Scenario #2: An email from my boss asks me to handle a task I perceive to be a waste of time.
Stormy reaction: Delete the email with a forceful click of the mouse muttering, "Another stellar idea from the big boss. Let me just drop everything to jump on that brilliant plan."
Rosy reaction: Type back, "OK!" and do it. Right away.
Scenario #3: Driving home, I realize I'm missing a key ingredient for the dinner I have planned for the evening.
Stormy reaction: Veer brashly into the grocery store parking lot and stride into the store like I own the place, darting past the more relaxed shoppers with a stern frown on my way to the item I need.
Rosy reaction: Decide if I could make a different meal for dinner instead, or stop at the store with a smile on my face, realizing that being home 15 minutes later than usual is perfectly alright.
Scenario #4: It's late evening. Dinner is done and the kitchen is cleaned up. I'm ready to cozy up in bed and read for a half hour before falling asleep. Then I remember - I haven't made our lunches for tomorrow.
Stormy reaction: Cry, "Life isn't fair! I've gotten up early, worked all day, made dinner, cleaned up from dinner, and now I have to make another whole meal for tomorrow too!? I quit!"
Rosy reaction: Take a deep breath and venture to the kitchen to find some delicious and healthful things to pack, creating lunches that will lift us out of that mid-day slump tomorrow afternoon.
In my daily routine, at least, I don't encounter anything that is worth reacting to stormily. Any inconvenience, annoyance, or frustration I encounter is mild and manageable. And maybe if I make a habit of rosy reactions, others around me will be more likely to do the same.
Here's to rose-colored glasses! Try on a pair this week for yourself!
