"Raise your hands,'' said the man at the head of the room. ``On a scale of 1 to 10, how do you rate today? One? Two? Three? Four? Five? Six?'' One hand went up. ``Seven?'' A smattering. ``Eight?'' Most of the hands were up by now. ``Nine?'' A few more. ``Ten?'' Two hands went up.

It was the end of my first day at the Option Institute in Sheffield, five weeks ago. I was taking a weeklong workshop in ``Optimal Self-Trust'' with Barry Kaufman, who with his wife founded the institute to teach people how to live happier, more self-empowered lives.

``OK,'' Barry said, ``what do you think accounts for such a range?'' It didn't take us long to realize that the rating we'd each given had as much to do with our expectations and standards of excellence as with the class itself. The degree to which each of us valued the day's events depended to a great extent upon our own frame of mind. Barry asked the women who'd raised their hands at 10 to explain why they'd chosen the highest number.

``I knew I only had five days here and I wanted to make the best of every opportunity,'' said a lovely blonde with a British accent. ``I didn't hold back. I was really present and it was great!''

``I made up my mind to take advantage of every moment. I did and so it turned out to be a terrific day,'' said the second enthusiast.

``Do you mean that, before you even got here, you'd decided to make each day a 10 for yourself?'' Barry asked. The women nodded. I was stunned. I've always believed that having a good time depended upon the places you went and the company you kept. It was incredible to think that you could accomplish the same thing by simply stating your intention and sticking with it. With four more days to go, each of us, I think, was determined to try to pull off that trick for ourselves.

Each day, I vowed to give myself over entirely to our various discussions and exercises. Each evening, I decided I would rate whatever had happened at the top of my scale. The result surprised me.

Instead of feeling a discrepancy between my assessment and reality, each day somehow enlarged itself to fill my definition. To my surprise, planning on calling the day a 10 actually made it a 10. My experience, it turned out, didn't exist apart from my opinion of it. It was malleable and utterly within my control. My attitude alone seemed to be as powerful as anything the world threw at me.

Let me give you one small example. We'd been given yellow markers, and at the end of the first day, a few were left behind in the room. I picked up an extra and put it in my pocketbook. The next day, however, when I saw a woman desperately searching for her missing marker, I immediately went up to her and said, ``I have two. I must have accidentally taken an extra one. Here it is.''

One of the guys sidled up behind me. ``I don't believe that story for a minute,'' River whispered. My face flushed with embarrassment. I'd been caught lying. How often did I do this? Who else had noticed? Was I always this transparent? My day was quickly unraveling into a 4.

``I can't believe how easily those words came out of my mouth,'' I confessed, burying my head against River's shoulder. When I finally looked up, he was smiling at me as if I were his very favorite liar. My day began to perk up into a 6. Would the others be equally forgiving? Did I dare to share this story without making excuses for myself?

I remembered my intention. I was going for a 10 and that meant taking risks, but maybe not. Barry had said that there was no such thing as a risk if you weren't attached to the outcome. What if I stopped worrying about what people might think and concentrated on learning from my mistakes? Could I admit what I'd done and be comfortable, no matter what happened? As we settled into our circle, I was totally involved.

Later in the morning, I confessed to my lie, along with another ``fib'' from the day before. No one lifted an eyebrow. I checked myself out. I was hovering around an 8. It occurred to me that, strictly for my own peace of mind, I should either reform or simply decide to tell the truth about myself just as I am. Both choices seemed equally acceptable. My spirits began to soar. I felt as light as a balloon.

This wasn't a 7+ existence. This was daring, stretching, reaching beyond comfortable boundaries I usually stay within. I zoomed past 10.

I haven't come down yet.

Column appeared in Boston Globe
By Linda W.
Optimal Self-Trust Participant
Freelance Writer