Colour my world
There’s something grossly backward about a jaded young person.
It conflicts with the innocence that should define this time in our lives. That innocence, and the trust it yields, provides the grounds for well-intentioned mistakes.
That’s the stuff learning is made of.
I’ve heard many friends — too young and too inexperienced — say that one person, one place or one thing has coloured their perspective of the world.
They feel overwhelmed by disillusionment and don’t realize it’s a normal part of growing up.
Reconciling childhood innocence with adult realities is something many of my peers are currently faced with. It’s a painful process.
But becoming jaded, cynical or distrustful isn’t out of your hands. It’s rooted in bitter fear — a feeling that we as individuals have sole control over.
Good opportunities for students are born in part out of someone else’s trust.
To have your perspective narrowed so early by fear is a shame.
Every day deserves a pair of eyes that aren’t blinded by the ugliness they witnessed yesterday. Every individual deserves an initial level of trust unscathed by last week’s anger.
Every class deserves an effort unaffected by September’s failures.
Of course, we all know that people don’t always get what they deserve. But maybe that in itself is a testament to my inability to bury cynicism.
Put practically, the more one gives, the more they have to lose. It’s basic economics and not entirely unreasonable.
Any Bay Street banker will attest to the truth in the opposite as well though: the more you give, the more you gain.
It’s a gamble, and I’m not a betting lady. But if I really had to, and the gamble was between fighting to keep trust in my world or allowing disillusionment to disarm me, I’d put my money on the former.
Maybe I’m too young to understand the consequences of this philosophy, but I’m looking forward to losing my point of view.
Because I know that it won’t affect the way my world is coloured — at least for now, anyway.