<p>Most of us have heard of the professor who handed his students white pieces of paper with black dots in the centre. When he asked them what they could see, each mentioned the small speck but not the surrounding space. The professor explained that, similarly sometimes, we are unable to look past our misfortunes to the blessings beyond, thereby missing the bigger and brighter picture outspread before us.</p>.<p class="bodytext">The dots in this story remind me of Little Dot, one of my long-ago, favourite comic-book characters. She is crazy about dots, spots and everything round. While the dots that the professor used to prove his point are symbolic of the rough patches that we encounter with regrettable regularity, Little Dot is not irrelevant. We tend to get as preoccupied with our problems as she is obsessed with actual dots. </p>.Cathartic power of silence .<p class="bodytext">If I had a rupee for every ‘dot’ which, over the decades, has unduly absorbed my attention, I would be a wealthy woman. For example, I grumble about the heat until cooling showers dispel my discomfort. Then, when the change in temperature brings on a ticklish throat, I complain about the rain. Continuing with climatic conditions, there was a pastor who was known for his attitude of gratitude. One dark depressing morning, his congregation wondered how he could possibly praise God. “We thank you, dear Lord,” prayed the pastor, “that the weather is not always like this.”</p>.<p class="bodytext">That worthy gentleman sounds like Pollyanna, in Eleanor Porter’s novel of that title. “There is something about everything that you can be glad about, if you keep hunting long enough to find it,” declares the young orphan, who lives with her unfriendly aunt. She plays the ‘glad game’, seeking advantage in adversity. She first learnt it when she received a pair of crutches as a present. Pollyanna’s father taught his child to be delighted that she did not require the gift. Later, housed in a bleak attic, Pollyanna ignores its inadequacy and admires the view from her window. Optimism should not be confined to the realm of fiction. We may not be able to delete the dots that plague our existence, but neither need we dwell on them. Let us focus, instead, on the sunny side of life!</p>
<p>Most of us have heard of the professor who handed his students white pieces of paper with black dots in the centre. When he asked them what they could see, each mentioned the small speck but not the surrounding space. The professor explained that, similarly sometimes, we are unable to look past our misfortunes to the blessings beyond, thereby missing the bigger and brighter picture outspread before us.</p>.<p class="bodytext">The dots in this story remind me of Little Dot, one of my long-ago, favourite comic-book characters. She is crazy about dots, spots and everything round. While the dots that the professor used to prove his point are symbolic of the rough patches that we encounter with regrettable regularity, Little Dot is not irrelevant. We tend to get as preoccupied with our problems as she is obsessed with actual dots. </p>.Cathartic power of silence .<p class="bodytext">If I had a rupee for every ‘dot’ which, over the decades, has unduly absorbed my attention, I would be a wealthy woman. For example, I grumble about the heat until cooling showers dispel my discomfort. Then, when the change in temperature brings on a ticklish throat, I complain about the rain. Continuing with climatic conditions, there was a pastor who was known for his attitude of gratitude. One dark depressing morning, his congregation wondered how he could possibly praise God. “We thank you, dear Lord,” prayed the pastor, “that the weather is not always like this.”</p>.<p class="bodytext">That worthy gentleman sounds like Pollyanna, in Eleanor Porter’s novel of that title. “There is something about everything that you can be glad about, if you keep hunting long enough to find it,” declares the young orphan, who lives with her unfriendly aunt. She plays the ‘glad game’, seeking advantage in adversity. She first learnt it when she received a pair of crutches as a present. Pollyanna’s father taught his child to be delighted that she did not require the gift. Later, housed in a bleak attic, Pollyanna ignores its inadequacy and admires the view from her window. Optimism should not be confined to the realm of fiction. We may not be able to delete the dots that plague our existence, but neither need we dwell on them. Let us focus, instead, on the sunny side of life!</p>
