We worriers will probably never stop worrying (more's the pity), but what we can learn is that MOST of these worries never come to pass. Over time, that's proven to us, and eventually we can acknowledge, then dismiss our worries based on the very real experience of their dire predictions never manifesting. It's like an itch, or the nagging feeling that you haven't locked the door when you very clearly remember doing it. Eventually, I think, we ignore them, distract our minds with something else, and they'll go away.
And wouldn't that, in the middle of a sleepless night, be a relief?
Some of us have no gift for moderation. I'm not sure why, but I think it has to do with an inherent lack of optimism, at least, in my case. And where that came from, by stars or disposition or myriad schoolyard traumas, I have no idea. I admire those who can swim easily between extremes, steady and breathing, enjoying either the yes or the no.
I do have a gift for going cold turkey, for which I am grateful. Abstinence from all indulgence really seems the easiest path--if there is no temptation, then there is no struggle. If there's no struggle, then there is no heavy emotional messiness to haul up and carry around. I love anticipation, but not the end of things--the piece of chocolate cake, the holiday, the trip to Alaska/Europe/the Caribbean, the relationship, the phone call, the book.
The end becomes so overwhelming, so all-encompassing, that it's easiest, really, either never to begin, or to have a spare experience always waiting in the wings.
We really do make it entirely too difficult, too often for ourselves. The bitch of it is that we *like* that inconvenience, I think. We like the feeling of being burdened, of sacrificing something, even if it's only in our heads. Goddess forbid we enjoy a day, work or no work, without guilt, without feeling we *should* be miserable, at least in small part, in order to feel worthy.
I blame Hollywood. And Puritans.
And I blame ourselves for mainlining this idea that it all has to be so bloody difficult to be worthy of mention. Mention. Well, there's too much noise in this world anyway, not enough focus on quiet diligence, quiet joy and a day very well spent.
I don't know, you guys. Sometimes it's just too much--too much work, too much debt, too much work to pay off too much debt. It's exhausting. And grinding. And it wears you down until you end up with the latest, trendiest flu, and have to stay in bed, fretting about this new, tiring development.
And, you know, I hate "at least"--probably the worst phrase in the English language. But (that that's the other one--"but"), at least there are herbs and the earth and some kind of raw, ancient power into which we can tap--a power that knows no debt and, at least energetically, knows no exhaustion, no illness.
Preaching to the choir, sure, but we're all one tribe. There's that, too, to be grateful for.
It's funny, really. That energy of worrying about others...I've found it's actually (in its prolonged state...) a selfish practice. Sure, you can quite naturally worry about someone driving in bad weather, about whether they'll get a coveted job or the like, but even that--it's about not quite trusting the choices that person is making: they're a careless driver, a poor interviewee...etc.
When I catch myself worrying about others in their lives, I try to distill it down to the essential: what is that actual choice *that person* is making in this situation that concerns me? Is it (more or less) objective (i.e. do they need new tires to drive safely, a new suit for the interview?). If so, I'll voice that concern. Worry over.
Or (the big OR) am I thinking *Man, I could do this better...?*
Yeah. That's a whole other story. I try to weed those out, because, hey, my life is certainly not one to held up as a beacon of bright, shining, uncomplicated success--that's for damn sure.
We create so much of our own misery. We really do. And though we know that, most of the time, it's such a challenge to *change that behavior.*
Last night I was up for most of it--worrying about my poor guinea pig and whatever is going on in her eye (long story), my foot that strangely went numb after padmasana yesterday (which is unusual, to say the least), a new job which starts tomorrow, an upcoming trip, oh, and on and on.
What could I do about any of it at 2am? Absolutely nothing. Have I been working to prepare for these things? Of course. But that doesn't help, of course.
Or, I suppose, it does. I mean, the worry *could* have been worse.
There's that great proverb that floats around yogi circles regarding worry: Can you do something about it? If yes, then do it and don't worry. No? Then put it down and don't worry.
I must have repeated that to myself over and over again. I could answer yes and no to all of the pages of the to-do-list-loaded roladex in my mind, bu...