No, I don’t mean the detergent. I’m speaking of bliss, elation, the joie de vivre as opposed to the droops, as Camille likes to call them.
My friend Chris will always ask me after I finish lamenting over what seems like a terrible situation, what good came out of it.
“Something Bianchi, whether it be a lesson of some kind or just the experience, there’s something positive there.”
This is I when my tail dives between my legs in miserable protest, though I see his point.
If you don’t search for the good than nothing about the situation is salvageable. It’s a no win across the board. But if you dig for that one nugget all was not lost.
Kind of like mining for gold, or bling in my case.
I’m not saying this way of thinking…Pollyannaism…is easy. It’s not. After spending many years mired in negative mud, those inroads are hard to avoid.
I will say, it does leave you feeling less tragic.
Laughing helps. To look at anything with clown eyes is a good start, like when my new espadrille came off in the middle of Fifth Avenue and 79th Street, and before I could retrieve it, a fruit truck ran over it. Now it looks like artwork some kid made in school. Even Phil the shoemaker giggled when I told him the story.
“You lose your shoe? You not know you have one shoe?”
“Yes Phil, of course I know…I mean knew, but there were cars coming. I couldn’t just go get it. I could have been run over.”
“You right Susannah…better shoe than you.”
I tried to smile hobbling home remembering I hadn’t even paid for them yet.
What good came from this?
I did make Phil laugh who said, maybe if he stuffs newspaper in them for 6 months, they might come around, and he told Vanya, his wife, who also laughed…and then she told Hilda around the corner who asked if she could see it since she heard it was so funny.
I suppose honing the skill of not taking yourself so seriously is what my smashed shoe left in its wake.
That and my unpaid American Express bill.