It’s ANZAC Day in New Zealand and we remember all those soldiers who gave their lives in war.
It is a time filled with powerful stories; of courage, bravery, service, generousity, horror.
It’s had me reflect again on the power of story.
What had young men sign up and go off on the ‘adventure’ of war on the other side of the world?
It was a great story, not necessarily based on any sort of reality, but based on the mythology of the excitment of war, of travel, of mateship, of battle and being a warrior.
Nothing wrong with that as a motivation, in fact it is age old. But as we now know the real story was vastly different. Life was expendible, the enemy often unclear, and what and who we were fighting for vague.
Now, we are becoming immersed in the stories of recession, depression, economic turmoil, environmental collapse. This is today’s world war.
So what is the real story? I find myself flip-flopping daily, depending on whether I am exposed to news of disaster or hope. Most often I find myself flicking off the news more frequently than ever before as I hit overload at the compounding stories of doom. It seems almost to become a sick addiction, like moths dizzily attracted to a light.
And I arrive at the cliche: Is the glass half full or half empty?
I’ve always like to joke that my glass is always overflowing. And actually it is not really a joke. I can choose in any given moment to view my life as abundant, it really is all about perspective.
The key is how we frame the story we create about our world, our lives, is very much a choice.
I believe the only thing that will lift the world out of recession and depression is to get straight about why we love to hear a sad story, why we are so attracted and titilated by a sad story, doom and gloom.
It’s not about being a Pollyanna, forever wearing rose tinted glasses, but we can choose at any give moment the colour of the lens, the shape of the frame, because no given moment is ever exactly the same. We don’t have to constantly drag the past with us.
The glass is always overflowing simply because I choose to see it that way.