I’ve been obsessing about the Heard/Depp defamation trial these past months, and since I’m hardwired to share my obsessions, I’ve wanted to talk about it with other people.

“Have you been following the trial?” I asked Jimmy.

“No, and I don’t want to hear about it,” he answered sternly. “They’re both creeps.”

I asked another friend the same thing the next day.

“Not particularly,” Whit answered. “It’s too sad a story for me.”

At which point, a light bulb went off for me, one that shone a spotlight on my choices, on other people’s choices, and more broadly on the way of the world — specifically, on our sad and pervasive penchant to manufacture loneliness and hostility, in short to bite our own and others’ ankles when that’s a strategy born in ignorance and there’s a much better way.

Jimmy’s answer came from what for shorthand reasons I’ll call the House of No. You might even call it a double negative — he said no to engaging me in no uncertain tone, and then he said no to Depp and Heard by consigning them to the Land o’ Creeps.

My heart tightened when I heard his answer. Not because I’m a snowflake: It’s how we all respond when someone addresses us from the House of No. It started with our primary caregivers and extends now to all our relationships.

My question to Jimmy and Whit was what psychologists call a “bid for attention.” I was seeking a response, and beyond that I was seeking to connect with them (which is why I prefer the term “bid for connection”). They both acknowledged my question, which was way better than ignoring me — nothing freaks people out more than being disregarded completely.

Their responses elicited dramatically different reactions in me, though.

I felt stymied by Jimmy’s answer. I wanted to tell him he was wrong about Depp, but I knew I’d risk his anger if I tried to continue the conversation. So I felt stifled as well as blocked.

Whit’s “no,” by contrast, left me with positive feelings. His response felt compassionate, both to me and to Depp and Heard. I didn’t feel rejected by it — I felt engaged with and heard (and not in the mode of the despicable Amber).

House of No, meet the House of Yes.

The House of No contracts the spirit.

The House of Yes expands it.

Positive begets positive and negative begets negative. The House of No creates more “no’s.” The House of Yes generates love and community.

I consciously resolved some time ago to take up permanent citizenship in the House of Yes. Given a choice between connecting and criticizing, I always try to choose the former. Ditto for seeking to lift up instead of cracking down. I do my best to lead with empathy. I try to do this even when I badly want not to.

We live in a time when the House of No has all the momentum. Social media has a lot to do with this — it is, in this sense, the devil’s tool. The world says “no” to us often enough. I try not to add to it.

I do this because the world needs more light — and I do it because I need more light, too.

As I write this, I imagine a storm of protests coming at me. “How about honesty? How about reality? Pollyanna isn’t wise or kind. Pollyanna is a bullshitter.”

But I’m not proposing that we play Pollyanna. The world has some very sucky aspects, which is precisely why we need to practice positivity. It’s how we make lemonade out of lemons.

Here’s another obvious objection. “Sometimes a person has to say no. What happens then? Am I obliged to bite my lip?”

Again, this is based on a misunderstanding. Practicing positivity doesn’t require us to not say no. It only requires us to say no kindly.

In fact, it’s easier to say no when you do it kindly. There’s less blowback — people are more likely to be okay with it.

Here’s the bottom line for me. The House of Yes is on the side of love. The House of No is on the side of hate. This is why religions came up with heaven and hell. It’s a compelling way to portray the great divide. “Shape up, or suffer!”

What does this tell us? Every time we choose the House of Yes, we’re tilting the world a tiny bit toward a this-world paradise.

The wonderful first season of HBO’s True Detective series ends with the following exchange between the two protagonists, Rust Cohle (played by Matthew McConaughey) and Marty Hart (Woody Harrelson).

Rust: “I tell you, Marty. I been up in that room looking out those windows every night here just thinking, it’s just one story. The oldest.”

Marty: “What’s that?”

Rust: “Light versus dark.”

Marty: “Well, I know we ain’t in Alaska, but it appears to me that the dark has a lot more territory.”

Rust: “Yeah, you’re right about that.” Eventually he adds: “You’re looking at it wrong, the sky thing.”

Marty: “How’s that?”

Rust: “Well, once there was only dark. You ask me, the light’s winning.”

Every one of us has a choice to make. Side with the darkness or side with the light? And not just in our politics — in our neighborhoods and our living rooms, in all the small spaces that fill up our days.

Which house do you choose to live in? Are you a consistent lightbearer?

Carl Frankel is an award-winning writer and the Common Council representative for Ward 2.