Being Optimistic Will Not Make Your Life All Puppies and Rainbows

But it will definitely make aging easier

If someone confides in you about their illness, for God’s sake, don’t tell them: “Everything happens for a reason.”

Or, “Just stay positive.”

That’s the quickest way to lose friends and alienate people. It’s optimism taken to extremes —  it’s toxic positivity, and people hate it. Toxic positivity approaches optimism from the wrong side.

Optimism is an inner trait that helps us change and grow. But if we apply it outwardly, evangelistically, people view it as aggression, and we’ll get blowback. When someone who is ill hears, “Just stay positive,” their blood boils, and your attempt at kindness will go down in flames like the Hindenburg.

Toxic positivity is a gross misunderstanding of optimism.

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Optimism begins inside

Optimism is the kind mother or father who always has an encouraging word, always uplifts their children. Optimism is not tough love. Optimism strikes a balance between tough love and unconditional love.

I’ve had situations when I was advised that tough love was the way to go. I learned that in Al-Anon meetings. I could never get on board with tough love. Maybe it’s because I’m weak and don’t want to see my kids suffer. I’ll cop to that. However, I always managed to strike a balance, and things usually worked out.

But even with optimism, bad situations can always get worse. We have no control over that. We can’t control world events, or singlehandedly stop a wanna be dictator/President from ransacking our nation. But we don’t have to curl up in the fetal position over it, or drink to excess over it.

I could be diagnosed with cancer next week, or get rear-ended and end up in an ICU. If either of those things, or both, happen, I will remain optimistic. Optimism is the quiet space inside us that always sees light in the midst of darkness.

It’s the part of us that intuitively knows that when it’s storming, the sun is still shining brightly behind the clouds. I have been very cynical, sarcastic, pessimistic, and angry at times in my life. But ever since I learned to slow down and quiet my mind, anger and pessimism have not returned.

Faith, optimism, and consistency

“Being present and experiencing what’s happening, is the essence of Zen practice (and requires no special abilities). Our life blossoms as we learn to meet what’s being experienced in each moment. Sustaining presence is the Heart of the Zen Way.”
 — Zen teacher, Paul Haller, San Francisco Zen Center

The thing I love about this quote is the line: … “and requires no special abilities.” I have probably taken an IQ test twice, but I don’t remember the score, likely because it wasn’t very high. No one ever told me I was mentally gifted.

You’ll probably do better at meditation if you’re not mentally gifted, because meditation is not about adding to your knowledge; it’s about letting it go when meditating. And not getting so wrapped up in your thoughts in everyday life, so that you can meet each moment mindfully.

Maybe my modest abilities have been helpful in my Zen practice. My Zen teacher, Paul Haller, is always there for me, even through 25 years of my mediocre meditation, counting my breaths endlessly and suffering through many seven-day sesshins (silent retreats). He was always there for me, always encouraging me, and he still is.

His recent teachings have re-inspired me. They get simpler as he gets older. His quote above is worth re-reading.

“Being present and experiencing what’s happening, is the essence of Zen practice (and requires no special abilities). Our life blossoms as we learn to meet what’s being experienced in each moment. Sustaining presence is the Heart of the Zen Way.”

I always had faith that meditation was worth it, and it still is. But meditation takes faith, optimism, and consistency. Five years ago, when I decided I would meditate daily and become a writer, faith, optimism, and consistency sustained me.

My own personal monastery

When I decided to meditate daily and become a writer, the first thing I did was transform my office into a meditation room, writer’s studio, and spiritual library. I did it to remind myself I was dead serious about this.

I rearranged my office. I went to IKEA and bought a bookcase and assembled it. I moved all my spiritual books (mainly Buddhist) into my office. I set up an altar and bought incense and candles. I created my own personal monastery where I would meditate and write every day.

I hung a sign that read “Meditating” outside my door.

I was 100 percent committed.

Then the most important person appeared — you

When I began writing about old age, my writing improved. I was now writing about things I knew, like the back of my hand and my home address: meditation and being old.

And the biggest change (and a little scary) is that I have begun to attract a fair number of regular readers, mostly 60 and up, who look to me for inspiration and ideas on how to cope with old age. Sometimes, I don’t feel up to the task, but I have to meet you mindfully.

So because of you, dear readers, I am locked in; I can’t quit you. I need to show up here to post 2–4 times per week. It helps me grow, and I have faith that because my posts are meaningful to me, they’ll be meaningful to you.

I have learned that you want an optimistic viewpoint about old age. One that points to ageing, not as a decline, but as a continuous learning and growth process, whether you’re walking half-marathons or getting your exercise with a cane.

Whenever I sit down to respond to your comments, I feel a weight on my shoulders to say something useful, insightful, inspiring, and yet somehow light. I know you want positivity, optimism, and hope.

Old age is not for the faint of heart — you’re brave people, leading the way for those to come after you. In my last post, I was amazed that 100 percent of you who responded said you are not afraid of death.

When I sit down to reply to you, it feels like a sacred moment — a matter of life and death. Let me know what you think in the comments.

I appreciate you.

Gary
August 2025