We often talk about the fatalism of our character. Or who we’ve become because of our experience.
But there’s a beauty in this thought:
“Scratch any cynic and you will find a disappointed idealist.”
That we might actually see what’s underneath. What’s still there.
Idealism never left. It got turned toward something else. Something more destructive.
But the hope is still in there somewhere.
What if our job was to help them find it again?