Spectacular!

"How are you?"

 

"Fine."

 

Eighty-five percent of the time, this is how this exchange goes.  It's a formality, a cliche.  Honestly, no one usually really wants to hear a recital of symptoms or problems as a result of asking that question.  Well, it could depend.  But, generally speaking, it's just an acknowledgement of the other person's existence, a conversation opener. 

 

I noticed after my father died that my mother always responded to that question with "Okay."  Formerly, she had always said, "Fine."  I couldn't really blame her.  It was her way of acknowledging the change in her well-being that my father's absence made in her life after fifty-three years of near-constant companionship.

 

My recently widowed mother-in-law responded bravely the other day with, "I'm fine--enough." 

 

I totally respect where they are coming from.  This posting is not about them.

 

It's about something else that recently came to my attention whichI have been thinking about.  I have found that a new acquaintance always responds with, "Spectacular!"  Not just once, in a really good moment, but, consistently.  How great is that?

 

She is young and pretty, and seems like a nice person.  I don't doubt that she is spectacular.  But, obviously, I've been around long enough to know that no one feels spectacular all the time. 

 

But how would it be to be in the habit of saying so?

 

Is she lying, some of the time?  Trying to impress?  I don't think so.  Here's what I think.

 

Our feelings are often preceeded by our thoughts.  Our experiences are often informed by our expectations.  What if we thought of ourselves as spectacular?  What if we expected our day to be spectacular?  How would that impact our actual feelings and experiences?  I started wanting to say, "Spectacular!" back to her.  Not out of envy, or just to compete, but in order to improve my own day.

 

I tried it a few times.  I didn't really observe people's reactions, but felt my own.  Is my life not really spectacular?  I live in a great place, I have a job, many people love me. I have the freedom to do so many things I want to do.  I am well.  I have pretty much all I need.  What is not spectacular about that?

 

As Viktor Frankl taught us, even the rare person in a concentration camp could control his feelings and find gratitude for small things through managing his thoughts.  How much more, then, is there an onus on me to do so?

 

My new acquaintance came up to me today and shyly made a confession.  Her usually curled hair was in a pony-tail.  She was wearing glasses, unlike before.  "Today," she said, "I'm not spectacular." 

 

We laughed.  She had given herself permission to have a down day, and I reinforced that by giving her mine. 

 

Such is life.

 

But I'm still impressed enough to give her a shout-out in my blog.