I worried a lot.
Will the garden grow,
will the rivers flow in the right direction,
will the earth turn as it was taught,
and if not, how shall I correct it?
Was I right,
Was I wrong,
Will I be forgiven,
Can I do better?
Will I ever be able to sing,
Even the sparrows can do it, and I am, well,
Is my eyesight fading,
Or am I just imagining it,
Am I going to get rheumatism, lockjaw, dementia?
Finally I saw that worrying had come to nothing.
And gave it up.
And took my old body
And went out into the morning
-Mary Oliver, I Worried
My breathing almost came to a standstill when I found this poem. It was as if it was meant to speak to the deepest part of my soul. I do indeed worry, about far too many details, about all the things I did wrong, the things I did right but am still unsure of, the future, the present, and the list is goes on. You know what? Worrying doesn’t get me anywhere and just raises my blood pressure.
I live dangerously and take huge risks in my life (the older I get the bigger the risk), but I am learning to take those risks without worrying about the outcome. Whatever happens will happen, and I will deal with it as it comes along, so there is no point in worrying about it.
Make a plan, prepare a contingency, and think quickly of an alternative if you get stuck. Most importantly, believe in your own strength.