Choosing the Ride

I'm trying to think more positively. It's hard. Always, something negative tends to sneak in and slowly that positive, bright thinking becomes gray and weighted down until, my new thinking becomes my old thinking and I'm right back to where I started.  So, I try, again.  It's like being on a mental Ferris Wheel.  I get on in the morning, I am thinking positive, my mind and attitude start to rise, I'm at the top, feeling like this is going to work, something happens, then something else, and pretty soon,  I find myself back circling around and then pulling into the platform I stood on in the morning--back to square one.  

I was thinking a lot about this waiting for the new blood work. I do think attitude is important. I do think thoughts (and words) are very powerful.  So, I don't want to drag my thinking down, I really am trying to keep the faith and know good is around me.  For some reason, I started thinking about the German class I had taken in high school.  I had four years of German.  It was very structured. I always envied the Spanish and French classes.  Someone was always dressed up or eating something good.  We did none of that.  The closest we came as a class to something fun was on Friday, we would have conversational German and have dialogues with a partner.  That was in junior high. I had a woman teacher and she was all business. I don't remember seeing her smile--ever.  In high school, we had  Herr Miller.  He was thin and wiry with blonde hair and glasses that were too big for his face.  He was always happy.  He smiled a lot and never seemed to sit still.   He let us have Christmas parties that consisted of pop and listening to German beer drinking songs (yes, this was a public high school--much simpler times).  He was a very kind person. The rule in the class was that you always had to speak German. I don't remember why, but he gave us nick names. I don't remember any but the one he gave a friend of mine. Her name was Carol, but for some reason he called her Die Carol.  Die (pronounced like the letter 'D')  is the feminine form of 'the' in German.  So, of course, we all called her that. It was an inside joke.  For Christmas, I decided to get her a T-shirt made that said 'Die Carol'.  At the mall there was a booth that would make custom T-Shirts.  I was with a friend and asked the kid there to print 'Die Carol' on the shirt.  He looked at me kind of funny, but laid out the words on the shirt.  He turned for my approval, I smiled and said yes.  He printed the shirt.  When he handed it to me, he said,  "Why do you want to put 'Die carol' on a shirt. Don't you like her?"   "Die Carol?  What was he talking about?  This said, "Die Carol...it was German."   And then I saw what he saw.  I remember I started to laugh and become almost apologetic.  "No, no, it's German. Kind of a joke-nick name kind of thing. It means The Carol.'  He slowly nodded his head.  I took the shirt and left.

I was seeing things in German.  He was seeing things in English. Our own perceptions blocked out the other's view.  The same word, different meaning and pronunciation. From the foundation of my thinking, I only saw one view, one alternative.  From the T-shirt guy's view, he only saw one solution, one definition.  My view was as a friend.  He saw me as an enemy.  That was a powerful lesson.
More powerful, though, was how I didn't see the word as anything but the German version.  I was that focused.  So, using that memory and focus, I'm going to try, again, today to remain postive, regardless of what might happen (see, already I'm preparing for the worst).  But, today is going to be different.  I am choosing not to ride the Ferris Wheel.  Instead, I'm going for the roller coaster.  A little faster, a few ups and downs, but I always end up with a smile and a thrill of being alive.