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looking at the world through rose-colored glasses

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Looking at the world through rose-colored glasses, what does this mean exactly? I’ve heard the expression a handful of times, and so, for once and for all, decided to find out where those words originated. It seems though that no one knows the origin, and explanations tend to vary. So perhaps the origin is not as important as looking through those rose-colored glasses.

Years ago I picked up a very simple and very small book written in 1940 by Frances Wilshire in which she gave a no-nonsense reason for looking at the world through rose-colored glasses. I liked what she wrote, and so I tried it out. Now some people think that when you see the world this way you’re creating a lovely little la la land for yourself, and that you’re somewhat of an idiot. No matter, I try to keep them on because what Frances Wilshire wrote rang true for me. Will they ring true for you? Well, you can only know by looking through them yourself.

When we were at the Jersey Shore Sumi gave her copy of O Magazine to me, and as I turned O’s pages, there, in wonderful big red letters, were the words, “In Praise of Rose-Colored Glasses” and under the caption was written: “The world we live in is a hard, scary place, and only getting worse. So do what Martha Beck does: Get out there and enjoy it.”

In the article Martha Beck writes of feeling guilty for looking at the world through rose-colored glasses when all systems on our planet appear to be going to pot. And so for years she couldn’t sustain a happy feeling when looking through those rose-colored glasses.

Then she wrote: “But over the years, as I’ve seen what leads to positive change and what doesn’t, I’ve become a sort of joy hound. I now agree with the poet Jack Gilbert: ‘We must have the stubborness to accept our gladness in the ruthless furnace of this world.’ and she wrote: “This isn’t narcissistic pleasure-seeking. It’s the way to make your own life work and give your best to the world.”

To the above, I say, Yes! Because when we’re steeped in fear, in negativity, our life becomes heavy, and a negative pattern promotes more negativity. On the other hand, focusing on the good that we see in the world tends to bring more of the same.

I’ll quote another passage because I can’t write it any better. Here it is: “. . . We must admit there will be music despite everything.” Or as Pablo Neruda wrote,

Take bread away from me, if you wish,
take air away, but
do not take from me your laughter.
…it opens for me all
the doors of life.

And this, “The more you defy your innate negativity bias, building from your strengths, finding relief, and embracing delight wherever you can, the more you become a walking cyclone of peace. The repercussions of one person living in stubborn acceptance of gladness are incalculably positive. Become that person, and you’ll find that in spite of everything, there is music. . . .”
www.marthabeck.com

Read the entire article (don’t skip, “the so-called 90-second rule”) in the September 2011 issue of O The Oprah Magazine, and then test out those rose-colored glasses
www.oprah.com

* * * * * * *

“To enter the Spiritual World, in imagination put on rose-colored glasses, and through them you will be able to expand your thought of beauty into fuller expression, by seeing everything in the color and hue of perfection. Then you are seeing in the light of beauty, with Spiritual vision.” – Frances Wilshire

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zabar’s and the apartment hunt

It’s a hot Monday. And a humid one. I promised to help someone find an apartment within the next six weeks. And so I will; I think. Manhattan in the summer with its concrete and crowds can be trying, but with its cafes it’s quite tolerable. The upper west side where I am now has many small interesting shops and really good eating places. The trick today is to focus on looking for an apartment and not fall into any shops. I watch one man walking pass me dressed in a suit jacket. He’s fading fast.

After a sixteen block walk, my shirt is soaked from the humidity, so I slip into Zabar’s at 2245 Broadway @ 80th Street, www.zabars.com and buy a “$4.98 Pastrami on classic rye, mustard, and mayonnaise on the side, a pickle and 70 years of experience.” That’s what the wrapper of my sandwich says. It also states, “New York is Zabar’s Zabar’s is New York” I linger a bit before purchasing the sandwich letting the air conditioning revive me. I think, yes, Zabar’s truly does belong to New York. Its customers know how to shove their way into any area to get what they want, and the cashiers give the customers a touch of service and no more. It’s all all right because where food is concerned, Zabar’s does it right.

I decide to not eat at Zabar’s corner cafe. I walk to 86th Street, then stroll east at Broadway checking in with the doormen along the way to inquire about apartments. The first doorman tells me that the rent begins around $2800 a month for a studio. I tell him that I will think about that. (Laughter is good for the heart. And now I have something really funny to laugh about when I get back to where I’m staying). After speaking to a few more doormen, I walk to Central Park and find a solitary bench where there is not much foot traffic. I open the wrapper and eat the pastrami sandwich. It’s tasty, but the sweat dripping down my back forces me to vacate my bench immediately after eating.

I walk west again on 86th Street and realize that I’m going nowhere fast. There’s a Starbucks on Columbus Ave and 86th Street. I open the door, and true to form, most of the customers have either a book, newspaper, computer or pen and paper in front of them. I buy a San Pellegrino water. I’ll be out the door in ten minutes, I promise myself as I sit at the one table left. It feels so good to be right where I am.

I hope that whatever you’re doing, you’re absolutely fine, too.