Positivity. by Patresa Hartman

You know what I think is fantastic?

Positivity.

I do not mean the oblivious, falsely enthusiastic, step aerobics and pat-the-bunny, cute like buttons positivity. I mean the kind that comes genuinely from decision -- acknowledgement that there is bad and rotten, but that there is also choice to actively search for what is good (because there is always good). (Always).

My body has developed extra sensitivity toward negative vibes in the last year or two. I am increasingly aware of the effects of nay-saying and complaining, flaw-focusing and arm crossing, blind refusals and failure-expecting, on my physical person.

I feel it in my shoulders.
It tugs downward at the corners of my mouth.
It leadens my step.
The atmosphere grows thick and impenetrable with it.

Conversely, I have become increasingly aware of the buoyancy that comes with surrounding myself with people who seek light and celebrate possibility. I want to sit across tables from daring positivity-excavators, share desk drawers, sip wine with these potential-finders. I want to offer them my brain and my brawn, share air and ideas and punch out holes in darkness. I want to join forces and illuminate.

I feel it in myself -- the joy and openness I feel when I high-five success and breathe patiently through imperfection. It isn't easy. All too often, I find myself crabbing when students do not do what I want them to do, when my husband does not choose as I would choose, when the earth does not rotate in sync with my step. I feel my eyes narrow and forehead crease with perceived slights. Everything goes heavy, and I do not like the sound of my own voice. I do not like that in a moment of disconnect, I slip easily into negativity. I let frustration and pride usurp a space that compassion and grace should unconditionally fill.

It is not about being false or naive. It is about understanding the nature of energy. I must remember the effects of the energy I send, because I understand well the effects of the energy I receive.