One day, a university professor entered the lecture hall and announced a surprise test. The students, naturally anxious, cleared their desks and waited.
The professor walked down the aisles, handing out the exams face down. "You may begin," he said.
When the students turned the paper over, there were no questions. No multiple choice. No essay prompts. The paper was completely white, except for a single, small black dot in the very center.
The professor saw their confusion. "I want you to write about what you see," he instructed.
The students began to write. At the end of the hour, the professor collected the papers and started reading them aloud. Without exception, every single student had focused on the dot. They described its position. They measured its diameter. They speculated on the darkness of the ink.
The professor smiled. "I am not going to grade you on this," he said. "I just wanted to give you something to think about."
"Everyone focused on the black dot, but no one wrote about the white space."
In our lives and careers, we are wired to focus on the black dots—the rejections, the errors, and the setbacks. We obsess over the one thing that went wrong.
But the black dot is small. The white space is infinite. Focus on the possibilities, not the error.