THE eminent American writer and essayist, Ralph Waldo Emerson, once said that 'nothing great was ever achieved without enthusiasm'.

The Oxford Dictionary describes that dynamic word as being 'rapturous intensity of feeling for a person, cause, pursuit; passionate eagerness'. So, keeping this definition in mind, the words of this erudite academic are probably true; for no matter how much ability a person possesses, for them to move upwards towards the realms of major achievement could well require the leavening boost of 'passionate eagerness'. Also, the less gifted can certainly progress well beyond personal expectation with the addition of the driving positivity that is enthusiasm. Yet it could be argued there is a negative side to this seemingly admirable approach to life, especially when it becomes unbridled.

There was a gentleman — such a title is justified in description of this delightful chap — who was a member of a local council a few years ago; His enthusiasm was awesome. His fellow councillors were often submerged beneath a tsunami of ideas, projects and such like which this good man felt would benefit the community. Also, he would bring forward suggestions made by others, or which he had read in the paper, or seen on television and would generally push them forward with a joyful zeal which even the most single-minded evangelist would find hard to match. His proposals ranged from the useful to the preposterous, the feasible to the incomprehensible, the visionary to the pointless, the profound to the plain daft.

Meetings ran on as these brain waves were debated — often at great length — and then usually rejected as being fatuous, impractical or costing too much money. As with most serial enthusiasts, he expected others to share his passions and when he found such was not the case, he moved on — did not seek re-election, but took himself off to fresh ventures and projects (many), with some of which he remains involved.

Such introspective, single mindedness — which all too often accompanies relentless keenness — is one of its least attractive aspects; folk doing charity work sometimes offended when others do not wish to join them; those making street collections who expect passers-by to contribute no matter what the cause (not everybody wishes to donate towards, say, the setting up of a sanctuary for three legged horses in outer Mongolia); those who involve themselves in civic and community life in other ways — all should remember that rapture is a personal matter; one person's passion is another's poison.

For myself, even as a small boy I tended — possibly shamefully — to view life with suspicion rather than enthusiasm. If something looked promising, pleasurable, I tended to approach it looking for the loophole, rather than with an eagerness to enjoy or maximise the occasion.

The cynic's creed 'If it looks too good to be true then it probably is just that', still tends to lurk in the recesses of my perverse mind. Thus, in a long, chequered working life, I've always shied away from job ads which list 'enthusiasm' among the bevy of attributes the would-be employers are seeking in their applicants. It would be hypocritical not to do so.

I do question, though, why enthusiasm can be deemed so important. Nothing wrong with it, to a degree, but surely what is needed in a good employee is a sound work ethic, integrity, loyalty and, naturally, the required skills. Such, mind you, will also no doubt, be expected by employers, from those possessed of the 'E' word; they, though, will enter their place of employment with an approach very different from more circumspect folk.

For they will hurtle into the working day with a 'passionate eagerness' that might well eschew foresight and a view of the wider picture — the 'fools rush in' syndrome. The more cautious, though, usually will approach matters in a different way. The upcoming hours of labour need to be eased into rather than hurtled towards. The route through the 'long (working) day's journey into night' must be planned with possible problems foreseen and such vision is enhanced if one sits quietly for a while, simply contemplating; did not the poet write 'what is this life if full of care, we have no time to stand (or sit) and stare?'. Enthusiasts though, by their very nature, their innate eagerness, require constant action, involvement. To the more cerebral (or those seeking a quiet life), a touch of slothfulness can, at times, be a virtue — surely?