feeling optimistic - quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing
Hope beads my skin like dew on spring grass. I feel it radiating in to soothe my blood. If forms such perfect spheres, each one like a tiny world of its own. I can't know for sure that today will be better than yesterday, or if this is time we win, but I'm optimistic and that's the best I can say.
You can turn off all the lights and still there is a flame in my soul, always burning for love, always ready to start a new blaze. That's why I feel optimistic. I can close my eyes and feel the positivity flow, recharging my neurones until they rekindle and spark. So call me "baby," call me "angel" or call me "everlasting fire"; my hope will never be extinguished before my earthly time is done.
Even though the dawn is still some time away, there is a light in my heart that was missing just yesterday. Right now it is a spark of hope, a ray of sunshine yet to be born, but it is there and I feel it. Perhaps that is optimism, the anticipation of good things to come. It is a feeling I haven't had in so long that if feels as foreign as it is welcome.
As the sun creeps over the horizon I feel more optimistic than ever before. The enemy has taken some significant hits, shown more signs of a willingness to negotiate. It isn't a matter of trust, but one of showing there is no advantage to them in continuing this battle. Should they fight it is mutually assured destruction, if they stop we leave them to live in their dysfunctional mess. We never came at them asking for war, only hoping to be left in peace. Always the enemy wants material advantage, lost in the seductive allure of power. It has now been demonstrated that their victory is impossible. They may of course now choose the MAD, we can't be sure. But like all life they should have the preference for self-preservation.
The snow comes, white and glistening, erasing the troubles beneath, directing me toward a new and positive day. The coldness only crispens up my resolve to find love today. Perhaps in this swirling perfect whiteness that gives perfect crystalline kisses, the coolness in the air will rejuvenate my soul, elevate my spirit and give me new reasons to step forward with confidence. It might be winter but there is beauty in it, clarity, the kind of thinking that lets me notice small details like how the trees through bare have the promise of spring within them, like the creator Himself lies dormant in the branches, ready to burst forth and greet the world with His many hues of green.
We both see delicate spring blooms. I see life as so robust that the flowers come back season after season, Igor sees them as transitory - soon to be trampled under foot. We both feel the sunlight growing stronger. I feel warmth and look forward to the harvest, Igor shrinks inside and worries about burns and insect bites. We both know the goodness in our community. I know we can push forwards and grow in an enlightened way, Igor "knows" that the people from other religions will come to spoil it and take over, ruining our progress. But Igor confuses knowledge with fear.
There are so many problems in the world, I'm not blind to it, my eyes are open too. But I don't see big religion, people as part of "herds" or "gangs," I see billions of broken hearts reaching out to know they are loved by the Divine, and they are. All of them, every single one. So I'm feeling optimistic. Our enemy isn't people at all, they are all born in innocence, there never was an "evil" baby. Cultures shape our minds, religions can inspire goodness or fear and bigotry. Cultures can change if infused with Love and mutual understanding. Fear breeds fear and shuts us off from the true inner voice of our moral compass.
People are good, human nature is just fine, culture we can change and more rapidly than people think. I reach out with Love because Love heals, Love makes us whole, Love elevates us to better and more noble thought patterns. The glass is still half full and I know we can make it if we try.
The avenue was gilded with gold yet the leaves hadn't yet started to fall. Jenny raised her eyes to the garland above that was so stark against the cloudless sky. It was picture book perfect. Perhaps tomorrow there would be some scattered over the sidewalk, hiding some of the grey. That was truly her favourite time, she walked over them like a celebrity to her own movie premier, her held high and her eyes higher. She sucked in the air, how she'd missed the moistness after the dry August heat. She could wear her woollen coats and boots right to her knees. She was the queen of her own life and the trees stood as if dressed for her coronation. The street lamps sent down a soft glow and the hum of the city around her was better than an orchestra. This was the start of the rest of her life, she could feel it.
Janelle is feeling optimistic today. My task is to find out why. She has hope yet by now we should have stamped it right out of her. She should be crying on the floor not smiling from the first floor window. Tiger made it obvious what we can do, take whatever we want, whoever we want. So today my job is to stick close, observe, listen. If there is something there we don't know about we want full details and until we do I'm forbidden to terminate her.
Is the night a shroud of blackness or a soft velvet cloak? Does the wintry wind chill your bones or awaken your spirit? Do spring flowers simply die or are their petals the most beautiful of confetti? Does icy rain steal your joy or steel your resolve? Are children expensive or priceless? Is a friend in need a problem or a blessing - a rare opportunity to show that your love for them is real?
How we see the world makes us who we are.