Albert Einstein said, “The most important decision we make is whether we believe we live in a friendly or hostile universe.”
I have spent my life convinced that we live in a world full of people who, like me, do their best most days to strive for some measure of decency and happiness. However, over the years, my positive outlook has attracted the occasional detractor, someone who has appeared to take it personally that I have approached life from “the glass half full” position. One older friend of mine once said, “Len, your response to a pile of horse manure is, ‘Where’s the pony?’” For those of you who might think that was a compliment, let me clarify that it was not. My inclination to look for the silver lining was an irritant to this woman, who lived with a man she didn’t love in a place that she hated. Her judgment of me rang out loud and clear: I was one of those “rose-colored glasses” morons, with more luck than sense. Not being a masochist, I elected to spend as little time as possible with that person. I headed off to Los Angeles – a decision of which she was highly critical – and she continued to slog through her unhappy world.
The last time I saw my “friend” was when I returned to visit her after she had been diagnosed with a terminal illness. As I walked into her living room with my husband and three daughters in tow, I saw her face brighten. “Everybody looks so healthy and happy,” she said. “I’m so pleased LA has worked for you.” I was shocked by her positive reaction; surprised that she seemed genuinely and truly glad rather than regarding me with thinly veiled contempt. However, I didn’t feel comfortable asking her what had brought about this change of heart – or attitude – towards me, and life in general.
To this day, I’m sorry I didn’t ask. I would like very much to know what transpired in my friend’s life to allow for that transformation from misery to peace. Perhaps because of her illness, she had begun to savor those momentary bits of happiness, which, in this case, was a visit from her long-lost friend. Perhaps she had stumbled upon a spiritual emollient for her wounds, such as meditation or prayer. Or maybe she recognized that by that time I had already lost two brothers to AIDS and another of my siblings was dying of cancer. Maybe knowing that I had in fact experienced suffering made me more human in her eyes. Whatever the case, her pleasure at seeing my family was undeniable. Gone was the resentment in her eyes; replaced by genuine goodwill. I was grateful. Our relationship ended with grace – or perhaps because of Grace.
This past week I have been limping. I left the jury I served on with real sadness over the outcome. For one of the first times in my life I felt genuinely out-of-step with people around me and wondered how we could see the world (and the plaintiff) in such different lights. I urged, cajoled, raised my voice, tried to listen, tried to understand, compromised on minor points, reasoned, and finally accepted that I couldn’t change the fact that eight of the twelve people on the jury were in one camp and four of us were in the other. (Thank goodness for my three cohorts.) When the judge read the verdict in the courtroom, I willed myself not to cry. Afterwards, I went up to the plaintiff, hugged her and apologized for our verdict. She stood there stoically and I realized in that moment that she had steeled herself for that outcome.
Today, Einstein’s quote holds particular significance to me. His words serve as a reminder that we decide whether we believe the universe is friendly or hostile, and that conscious choice helps determine our view of the world and the people in it. I will continue to choose to believe that the majority of people near and far want exactly what I want: to live life with dignity and a modicum of happiness. I will also remind myself that people (including me) are imperfect and we do the best we can everyday. That is, and will have to be, good enough. Perhaps that’s the truth my old friend came to realize towards the end of her life, which accounted for her newfound peace. Perhaps that is grace.
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