There’s a particularly charming tenant in The Optimist’s Creed that always resonates: “To make all your friends feel that there is something in them.” At first glance, it sounds like a rather pleasant, if slightly obvious, directive, doesn’t it? Just sprinkle a little validation dust on your pals and call it a day. But like most things of genuine substance, its simplicity belies a profound, and perhaps even challenging, depth.
This isn’t just about handing out compliments like candy on Halloween. It’s not about bland affirmations or telling someone they’re “great” simply for breathing. Frankly, most of us can sniff out insincerity faster than a bloodhound on a bacon trail. No, this tenant calls for something far more nuanced and demanding: the active and intentional act of seeing.
It’s about valuing the unique tapestry that makes each friend who they are, imperfections and all. Because, let’s be honest, perfection is dreadfully boring anyway.
Think about it. In our wonderfully chaotic lives, we’re often so preoccupied with our own internal monologues, our own anxieties, our own relentless pursuit of something, that we rarely pause to truly observe those around us. We’re excellent at categorizing, at slotting people into familiar boxes based on their roles, their habits, or their most obvious traits. But “to make all your friends feel that there is something in them” requires a deliberate shift from passive observation to active engagement. It demands that we look deeper.
It’s the subtle art of noticing the quiet resilience in someone who’s just navigated a tough patch, even if they’re still visibly limping. It’s appreciating the dry wit in a conversation that others might miss, or recognizing the innovative spark in an idea that hasn’t quite solidified yet. It’s seeing the fundamental goodness, the unique talent, or the untapped potential that even the individual themselves might be too busy or too self-critical to acknowledge. And then, crucially, finding a way to articulate that observation – not as flattery, but as a genuine reflection of what you’ve perceived.
This isn’t about grand gestures; it’s about the quiet magic of belief. When you truly believe there’s “something” in someone – a unique strength, a hidden talent, a profound kindness – that belief subtly alters your interactions. It changes the questions you ask, the way you listen, the encouragement you offer. It’s the difference between a polite nod and a genuinely intrigued “Tell me more about that.” It’s the kind of belief that can act as a catalyst, sparking a realization within the other person that, yes, perhaps they do possess something extraordinary.
And here’s the wonderfully self-deprecating part: sometimes, the “something” you find isn’t even what they expect. It might be their unwavering loyalty, their unexpected knack for making terrible puns, or their peculiar ability to remain calm amidst absolute chaos. It’s about valuing the unique tapestry that makes each friend who they are, imperfections and all. Because, let’s be honest, perfection is dreadfully boring anyway.
Ultimately, this tenant isn’t just about making others feel good; it’s about refining our own capacity for empathy and perception. It challenges us to move beyond superficiality and engage with the rich, often hidden, inner lives of those we hold dear. It’s a call to be present, to truly see, and to affirm the inherent worth and potential in every single person we call a friend. And in a world that so often diminishes and critiques, the simple act of genuine affirmation? Well, that’s a small, quiet revolution.
Justin Lockridge 
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