I believe in the power of positive thinking. Which is why, at five thirty on my first morning in Mazatlan, I sat bundled up in sweats and towels at the pool, staring at the black sky in search of signs that the weather forecast had been wrong. Even though every source had offered up the same images of weepy looking dark clouds, and even though our arrival the afternoon before under a seemingly impenetrable blanket of gray had done little to dispel the accuracy of the predictions, I was determined to prove them wrong. I would not stand for it; there was plenty of shitty weather to be had back home, for free. Or at least at no additional cost.
So the more I stared, and the harder I concentrated, and the more I pretended I was not as freezing as I had been when I arrived the day before, the more my powers gained momentum. I began to notice the distinct twinkling of stars. I’m no meteorologist, but I was guessing that indicated a significant break in the cloud cover, and my theory was confirmed as the sun began to toss light from its still invisible ascent behind the mountains, revealing unmistakable patches of blue between the thinning edges of what had become innocuous cottony puffs. I gave myself a high five, and anxiously awaited the arrival of my sleepy daughters so they could admire my handiwork.
Not surprisingly, my daughters went on to thoroughly enjoy the glorious day but absolutely refused to give me credit for it. I wonder what they’ll think this morning. The forecast for rain today had been unanimously even more insistent than that for yesterday, and they felt fairly certain my role in willing away adverse meteorological forces would be proved to be nothing more than coincidence. Still, I began my vigil this morning before six, and the fruits of my determination are again beginning to appear in the form a brightening sky even bluer and clearer than yesterday’s. Coincidence my Aunt Fanny. I am a goddess.
So I’ve been giving my powers of positive thinking a bit of extra thought, since I often use empty vacation hours to conduct a referendum on all aspects of my life. There just doesn’t seem to be any reason to underestimate the value of simple optimism. It’s effortless, it costs nothing, and it beats the crap out of believing things will actually turn to shit. If I can apply it to precipitation, I can turn it loose on prosperity, spiritual fulfillment, emotional stability, and good health. Can’t I?
Like most people, I have heard more than my share of horrific stories lately. About parents sending their children off to school in the morning and, hours later, realizing their lives had been forever shattered. About people in the prime of life being told by doctors there is no hope of making it to old age. About people losing their homes, or just losing their way. Unfortunately, no amount of positive thinking can stop a mad man from doing the unthinkable, but as for the rest of the stuff, as long as there’s a fighting chance, a glimmer of hope, I say go for it. Doctors – even the Jewish ones, mom – can be wrong, and if fortunes can shift downward, there’s no reason to think they can’t shift just as easily in the other direction.
Yes, I know, no matter how goddess-like I am, I cannot will away disease, cannot alter the course of tragedy just because I think it's unfair. But today, for the moment at least, I am choosing optimism, no matter how irrational it may seem, and not just because I am on a beach in Mexico (although I admit that doesn’t hurt). Doctors, meteorologists, the NRA – they can keep their predictions of doom. And my daughters can doubt me all they want, but so far, this week, I’m two for two.
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