I have called this talk: “A Struggle for Optimism” because, for me in this modern world, it is a struggle to be optimistic. I find many reasons at many levels for pessimism, especially since I cannot heed Omar Khayyam’s plea:
Ah, Love! Could thou and I with Fate conspire
To grasp this sorry Scheme of Things entire,
Would not we shatter it to bits – and then
Remould it nearer to the Heart’s Desire! (from Edward Fitzgerald’s free translation)
Here are just a few of the reasons why optimism is a struggle for me:
Natural events such as: hurricanes, Katrina and Rita come to mind; tornadoes, the one that struck Thursday near my boyhood home in Fort Collins is an example; a killer tsunami in Indonesia; the mass destruction of a cyclone in Burma; an enormous earthquake in China.
Cultural revolutions such as: urbanization; the new slavery to jobs with commuting; too much TV (I have a TV set but I use it for home movie and educational purposes. I must say that TV was a great source of comfort and entertainment for my late wife in the her final years.); mass advertising leading to what I call an “over-focus” on materialism (or disgusting displays of capitalistic excess in my more negative moments).
Political events such as: the 9/11 attack; the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq; attacks on our freedoms from within; ethnic cleansing in many places around the world; starvation; drought; plagues.
Economic events such as: the dot com collapse in 2000; the continuing sub-prime mortgage crisis; the increase in fuel costs to be followed by increases in almost all consumer products, events which will impact the poor of the United States and around the world, increases which have already spawned violent protests and which may de-stabilize whole areas including nations and, possibly, continents.
Cultural vulnerability due to inequities in wealth distribution: the control by the wealthy few of most of the world’s wealth is vast and is increasing; by some estimates over 80% of the world’s wealth belongs to less than 10% of the population; the rising dangers posed by the exercise of power and control and economic channeling by the political/industrial/military complex; President Eisenhower in his farewell address spoke of this danger; his warning has gone unheeded; the danger that this powerhouse of interests represents in far greater now than it was when Ike left office.
Perhaps the greatest barriers to optimism for me are what I term the population, energy and world insecurity triangle; the world cannot sustain its present population, given the level of natural resource use of Americans and the fact that the “American Model” of resource gluttony is what much of the rest of the world wants and is working toward; China and India, with a combined total of around 2.3 billion people are moving through rapid development; freedom and democracy cannot survive population growth such as we have seen over the past 200 years; cultures around the world are in turmoil and danger of sinking into collapse because of population overloads, resource shortages and energy cost increases.
And finally, the coup de gras: Life is a fatal disease; we are all doomed. As Wilfred Owen expressed it so well in his poem, “Futility:”
Was it for this [death] the clay grew tall?
--Oh, what made fatuous sunbeams toil
to break earth’s sleep at all?
That is a long, complex and weighty list of reasons to be pessimistic. However, most people, I believe, and I know that I am one of them, are optimists, optimists -- in spite of rather than because of the reasons suggesting that pessimism might make more sense. The optimist believes that this is the best of all possible worlds and the pessimist fears that that is so.
Here is a poetic example of optimism in the face of extreme health adversity from William Ernest Henley’s “Invictus:”
Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced or cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate;
I am the captain of my soul.
Unlike Henley, I have not had to battle major, debilitating disease all of my life; I have not lost a foot to the ravages of tuberculosis as he did. Yet, with all of his infirmities, he became a successful editor and critic and poet. He lived a life of open courage and defiance. Defiance can be a critical aspect of optimism.
I do not know what the “Bedrock” of my optimism is. Perhaps it is “written” in my genes. I can articulate quite clearly what some of the foundation stones for my optimism are, the fundaments, the building blocks on that bedrock, if you will. These include but are not limited to:
Family history is one very large building block: Since about 1988, I have gathered information on various lines of my ancestry; I have found not only when people in these family lines lived but how they endured. For example, my great great grandparents, John Mansfield and Elizabeth Woy Mansfield, lost three children, two boys and an infant girl, within one week in 1854, probably to one of the many plagues that passed through the Ohio of that time. They went on to have more children; to more than endure, to prosper; to keep their faith in their church, their community, their beliefs and their way of life and in themselves. I honor their spirits with my own optimism.
The culture I was born into is a building block. Sure, it was the depth of the depression and it was in a small town; moreover, my family was among the poorest of the poor; maybe it was because we did not know any better: we accepted and enjoyed and were thankful for what we had; we ate simple, home-cooked (and in some cases) home-grown food; we played simple games, using home-made toys, if we had toys at all. Perhaps our ignorance was “bliss” but we were optimistic.
My family was and continues to be a building block: My parents, John Martin Mansfield and Addie May McClure Mansfield, were honest, hard-working people who never let their poverty disrupt or destroy the family; I was the ninth of ten children; one died before I was born and several of my older siblings left to establish their own lives when I was still young, but except for one older brother they stayed in the area until WW II took all of the brothers into the services; having this large family around was a great source of support. Family, truly, is one of the fundaments, the first elements of my optimism.
Lorita May Young Mansfield, was a most excellent wife and mother; the fact that in her final years she battled the illness that was to take her life did not deter her from living as well and as fully as she could under the circumstances; our daughter, Misty and son-in-law, Toby, are a continuing source of pride and pleasure; and, as you may imagine, coming from a family of nine who lived into adulthood, I have a host of other relatives, including several generations of nieces and nephews, in-laws, and numerous cousins of various degrees of relationship. How can I not be optimistic?
Friendships became building blocks: from boyhood onward; I was most fortunate in my early friendships; I am still in regular communication with a friend that I first met when I was six and he was five and with another with whom I have been a friend since fourth grade; unfortunately the Grim Reaper has cut a wide swath through family, friends and acquaintances. In spite of that, I am optimistic.
Heroes and heroines served as building blocks: Personal, national, international, famous and obscure. Recently, I read that Irena Sendler died at age 98. I had never, to my knowledge, heard of her. She saved 2,500 Jewish children, maybe more, from the Nazi Holocaust in the Jewish Ghetto of Warsaw, much as Schindler and other quiet, unassuming “heroes” did. I find optimism in learning about such people. They give me strength to believe and to be optimistic.
On a more personal level, there was a family that I worked for both before and after my military service. They were highly successful farmers. His left leg was cut off above the knee in a farm accident the year they were married. He was not expected to live. Seventy years later, he introduced me to those gathered for the couple’s 70th wedding anniversary as their “fourth son;” I was humbly honored to tears by that wonderful gesture; they were like grand parents to our daughter, who spent a week or two at their place over a couple of summers as she was growing up. Their friendship has been a pillar of my optimism.
And as I have come to know and understand some of the special challenges of many of the congregation’s members, my optimism grows. Raymond Jantz comes to mind; he has met great challenges with honor, dignity, grit, determination and creativity, especially creativity.
Here are some recent examples of his published poems:
Old Hoot
for practical purposes
(impractical ones too)
everyone calls him Old Hoot
but that’s just and endearment
his name is really Whoo
and all evening long
he sits in the tree
introducing himself
repeatedly woodpecker
our resident woodpecker is the coolest in town
when he starts drumming
no other woodpeckers dare come around
there’s no doubt about it
he has a superior sound
peckin’ like crazy and layin’ it down
Angels of Our Better Nature
once before in a time of crisis
our nation torn asunder
we searched ourselves and found within
angels of our better nature
once again that time has come
to search within ourselves
those dormant better angels
we must again arouse
we’ve left it to the politicians
and see what they have done
the world has complicated troubles
we have to find someone
he or she must be a statesman
someone strong of understanding
wise as old King Solomon
I learned of Raymond’s medical challenges from his family on my first visit to a UU meeting. Now, I enjoy reading his poems and exchanging emails with him. I encourage others to come to know Raymond, as I was fortunate enough to do; perhaps knowing him will positively impact your own optimism.
My participation in the Unitarian/Universalist Men’s Group and the UU Freethinkers has been a positive experience. In both of these groups, individually and collectively, social issues are studied and discussed. The quality of the people in the groups and the camaraderie provide me with optimism.
In a similar vein, the invitation from a former colleague to join and participate in Tattersallers, a small Forum that meets here in Green Valley on Friday mornings from the first Friday in January to the last Friday in April, has been rewarding and inspiring. Individual members of the group give talks on a more-or-less formal basis for part of each meeting. Then, the meeting is opened to the group for questions, answers and comments. The level and diversity of the group in terms of intellect, education and experience is both astounding and gratifying and my acceptance by the group and my participation have been vital factors in ”settling into” a life here in Green Valley and have contributed to my optimism.
Similarly, my participation, as a member of the audience, as a speaker, as Vice-President and as acting President for several weeks for the Green Valley Forum has been instructive and rewarding. The Green Valley Forum meets each and every Tuesday as the Green Valley Recreation’s East Center. Attendance this year ranged up to 215 people for a particularly controversial topic. The range of topics is wide and the level of presentations is generally high. Even when I have not found the subject of a topic enticing, as listed in the advance notices, I have found hidden gems of wisdom in the presentations. I have been impressed by individual speakers. It has been an educational experience of inestimable value and a definite factor in my enjoyment of my life in Green Valley and, hence, of my optimism.
Less formally, there is a small, fluid group of men that meets each Tuesday morning throughout the year. I was invited to one of those “meetings” and have continued to participate. I call the group The Geezers Kaffee Klatch. Current events, personal happenings and concerns and other topics occupy a diverse format. No doubt about it, even though some of the topics discussed are the unpleasant happenings in the United States and around the world, participating gives me optimism.
As evidenced by the above comments, education is another of the building stones of my optimism. I was an indifferent student with little evidence of aptitude, or intellectual strength or motivation; then, I joined the Army with the idea of trading three years in the military for four years of college with the GI bill; it was in the Army that I discovered that I might have the intelligence to succeed in college; later, after working in the private and public sectors for five years, I was fortunate enough to receive an NDEA Fellowship that paid for the bulk of my post graduate work leading to the master’s and Ph.D. degrees. I once wrote a short article entitled: “Live 15 Billion Years and Travel to the Ends of the Universe.” It was about a lifetime of learning, surely a factor in establishing and maintaining optimism for someone like me.
Teaching and my students were important sources for many years; a few of my students have kept in touch over the years – in some cases – the decades; I value their friendships and the experience of knowing what they have done with their lives. When our daughter graduated from college, my wife and I established the Mansfield Scholarships at the college where I taught. Now, over twenty years later, there are over 50 “Mansfield Scholars” out in the world, making what they can of their lives, some of whom still keep in touch. Knowing about them enhances my optimism.
Reading non-fiction and fiction; a couple of my older sisters taught me to read before I went to first grade; kindergarten was not available; then, in first and second and third grade, I had a “crush” on the top reader; I read in an effort – a vain effort, I might add – to keep up with her; with those early motivators reading has been and continues to be a major factor in my life; several years ago, I put together a list of books that have been influential in shaping my philosophy of life, my orientation towards myself and others and my overall knowledge base; reading has been and continues to be a critical factor in my optimism, as is the Joyner-Green Valley Branch Library with its wonderful staff and volunteers.
Writing is another factor in my optimism. Sometimes, especially in letters to editors of local newspapers, I “let off steam” over social issues. I also like to research and write about contemporary social issues such as the population crisis, the energy crisis, the blatant bungling of the first year in Iraq and similar topics. Sometimes, I write fiction. I do not ever write often enough. Not sure why. Writing is a source of my optimism.
Music came into my life when one of my older sisters bought a radio for the family; that brought a variety of music into the house, along with all of the popular programs of the era. While I was growing up, the family listened to “Old Timey Country Music.” But when no one else was around, I listened to classical music on the Saturday and Sunday broadcasts. In junior high and high school, the popular music of the day captured my attention. In the early 1960s, I became fond of folk music. A student introduced me to Celtic music, which captivated my interest. Some jazz, some rock and role, a lot of “easy listening music” and many other kinds of music over the years have provided pleasure. Surely, without music to sooth my “savage heart,” I would not be optimistic.
In Green Valley, through friends from the Tattersallers Forum, I learned of the Green Valley Chamber Music Association. After only a few visits to their monthly concerts, where members play, I became a Life Member. Those monthly concerts and other musical events have contributed to my optimism, even though I play no musical instrument (except the radio or other such contraptions).
Art: the walls in my house look like an art gallery; most of my art collection is by people I know (or knew in the case of those who have passed on). About the only thing I can draw is flies, on a hot, summer day; but I do appreciate art in almost all of its many manifestations and both my own collection, which numbers about 99 pieces, and the art that I have seen in my travels around the United States, in Great Britain and in Scandinavia occupy an important place in my life and in my optimism.
Love of Nature has been a compelling and pervasive element in my optimism. Whether it is a sunset, or the mountains that tower above my home, or desert wildflowers, or seeing a roadrunner in the yard, Nature gives me a thrill and lifts my spirits.
And speaking of “spirit,” I do think of myself as a “spiritual being,” albeit not one in the traditional, conventional religious sense. My “spirituality” is more intuitive than rational, as was Emerson’s. It is more personal than institutional, in the commonly thought religious sense.
Lack of life-transposing or deeply challenging events; mine has been a life, overall, of very good luck; as I look at the tremendous challenges that some of the people in our world face and compare those challenges with the soft, easy, almost-effortless life that I have been favored with; that is why I have to “give back” some of my good fortune through small “services” and “gifts.” I have to be optimistic.
In short, nearly every aspect – certainly every important aspect of my life – has fostered beliefs and attitudes and memories and experiences leading to – I might even say demanding – optimism. I would be a miserable miscreant, given my many good fortunes, if I were anything but optimistic.
In my view, no consideration of optimism in the United States of America would be complete without some mention of Ralph Waldo Emerson. Emerson, in many ways, embodies cultural, philosophical, religious and educational optimism, in spite of the fact that his father died when Waldo was 8; his sister died a bit later; one of his brothers was retarded; two of his brothers died without fulfilling their early promise; his first wife died after only a few months of marriage; a son from his second marriage died young. He was despondent for months.
Waldo, as he liked to be called, played an important role in the development of modern Unitarianism; he put forth – or at least supported – a number of radical ideas for his time regarding the celebration of communion, the historic role of Jesus and the “nature” of God as a force within each human being.
He entered the ministry in the Unitarian Church with hesitancy and he left his ministry after about five years. However, in his time within the church, even though some of the most powerful figures of his day did not like some of his radical ideas, he became a much sought-after speaker in churches throughout New England because of the depth of his sermon messages and the eloquence of his deliveries.
After leaving the church, he became one of America’s premier writers and speakers; most of his earning for the rest of his life came from his public speaking; he gave up to 80 speeches a year, many far from New England; through his writing, beginning with the small book, “Nature,” in 1835, and continuing through a long series of essays, his recognition as a unique American scholar grew. He became recognized as a philosopher, religious reformer and educator and education reformer. He was also noted for his anti-slavery stance.
Ralph Waldo Emerson was one of the great optimists of history; he believed that we do have fate but with discipline and work and faith (in ourselves and others and in the all pervasive and immutable spirit) we can overcome our fate – or, at least, more fully realize our potentials. He believed that God is in each of us and in every aspect of the universe.
There is a wider sense in which the Green Valley community is a source of optimism. Green Valley is known as a volunteer community. Everywhere one goes, to the library, to the White Elephant Thrift Store, to the Sheriff’s Auxiliary, the many churches, to every one of the numerous clubs and organizations, including the twenty-nine homeowner associations, there are volunteers.
In many cases, such as the clubs, there are only volunteers. Green Valley is NOT a place where people come to “give up,” to “vegetate” and to die. It is a dynamic community of incredibly talented human beings with a nearly unimaginable range of interests, abilities, life-experiences, talents, hobbies, passions and commitments. It is an extraordinary community and certainly, for anyone who looks around and thinks about it, an incredible source of optimism.
So, what do I do if I feel pessimism trying to sneak into my thoughts and feelings? I think about all of the wonderful people I have been fortunate to have as family and as friends, acquaintances, colleagues, neighbors and students. I read samples of the world’s literature, perhaps, especially, something humorous at the “darkest” times. I listen to music, either from my personal collection or on KUAT-FM. I walk around my home and look at my art collection, most of which was created by friends. I get out into the community. I read poetry. I recited some lines of poetry earlier in this presentation and three poems from Raymond Jantz’s creativity. Here are some more examples of poems by famous poets that give me cause to be successful in the struggle for optimism.
The Arthur Hugh Clough poem, “ Say Not the Struggle Naught Availeth,” is one of my favorites because of the message it contains:
Say not the struggle not availeth,
The labor and the wounds are vain,
The enemy faints not, nor faileth,
And as things have been they remain.
If hopes were dupes, fears may be liars;
It may be in yon smoke concealed,
Your comrades chase e’en now the fliers,
And but for you, possess the field.
For while the tired waves, vainly breaking,
Seem here no painful inch to gain,
Far back, through creeks and inlets making,
Comes silent, flooding in, the main.
And not by eastern windows only,
When daylight comes, comes in the light,
In front, the sun climbs slow, how slowly,
But westward, look the land is bright.
Thomas Hardy was both a novelist and a poet; some would say that his novels and much of his poetry paint a rather dark picture of the human condition; that may be so; perhaps he was just a “realist.” In some of his poetry there is great hope, great optimism.
IN THE TIME OF BREAKING OF NATIONS
Only a man harrowing clods
In a slow silent walk
With an old horse that stumbles and nods
Half asleep as they walk.
Only thin smoke without flame
From the heaps of couch-grass;
Yet this will go onward the same
Though Dynasties pass.
Yonder a maid and her wight
Come whispering by:
War’s annuls will fade into night
Ere their story die.
(from) THE OXEN (This has to do with the notion that animals kneel on Christmas eve, much as they did at the time of the birth of Jesus.)
Christmas Eve, and twelve of the clock,
“Now they are all on their knees,”
An elder said as we sat in the flock
By the ember in hearthside ease.
“In the lonely barton by yonder coomb
Our childhood used to know,”
I should go with him in the gloom,
Hoping it might be so.
Here is the poem that Robert Louis Stevenson wrote for his gravestone:
Under the wide and starry sky,
Dig the grave and let me lie,
Glad did I live and gladly die,
And I laid me down with a will.
This be the verse you grave for me:
Here he lies where he longed to be;
Home is the sailor, home from the sea,
And the hunter home from the hill.
People, reading, music, art and the comparatively lucky life that I have had are some of the things that have “required” that I be optimistic. I am sure that most of you have your own reasons. Being optimistic is a struggle for me. I hope less so for many, if not most of you.
For, after all is said and done, Edna St. Vincent Millay, in “Renascence” says:
The world stands out on either side
No wider than the heart is wide;
Above the world is stretched the sky-
No higher than the soul is high.
Go forth and be pessimistic no more! Let us have a few “moments of silence” for all who have come before, for all who share our time on earth and for all who will come after; may they have reason for optimism.
Author Note: Hal Mansfield was born in Fort Collins, Colorado. After serving in the U. S. Army, he graduated from Colorado State University, in 1958. He received his Ph.D. from The University of Denver, in 1974. In 1993, he retired from Fort Lewis College in Durango, Colorado, where he taught psychology, statistics and writing for 18 years. In addition to fiction writing, part of his retirement regimen includes researching, thinking through, and writing about critical contemporary social issues. After a “life-time” in Colorado, including the last 31 years in Durango, he recently moved to Green Valley, Arizona. Some of his writing efforts, including letters to the editor, have appeared in “The Durango Herald”(since the mid-1970s) and other newspapers, as well as in” Solar Age Magazine,” “crimemagazine.com” and “Crossroads: A Journal of the Southwest.”