I’m happy to be a skeptic. Not easily convinced. Not just believing something because somebody, however eloquent or passionate they may be, tells me it is true.
That is a place many of us come to as adults. We should. It’s a kind of growing up that occurs when we first discover that Santa isn’t real. (I’m so sorry if you had to hear it here for the first time!).
For some people this “growing up” is a sad thing. But we really can’t live in Neverland for ever, even if we should undoubtedly take a child like spirit of adventure, excitement and curiosity into the whole of our adult lives. That doesn’t need to die.
So yeah, skepticism is good.
Cynicism, on the other hand, is a different kettle of spiny fish. On the surface, very similar to skepticism, in reality it is place where even the memories of Captain Hook, Tinkerbell, Rudolph and Father Christmas have faded away. The candle has almost gone out. A Place Where Neverland Never Was. A kindred spirit with Bitter Man.
There is, though, an antidote to the cynicism of the cynic in ourselves and others. It is a patient kindness and a compassionate empathy for the child that might still be in there, fighting to get out and stop Mr Skeptic from “growing up” too much.
Spending time, giving space, observing, playing with, talking to Real Children, is perhaps the best way to cultivate this antidote.