I offer advice. I breeze by with a song in my heart and a laugh on my lips. But, I worry. I tell others to meditate, to breathe deeply, to let their scary thoughts be pricked like bubbles. But, I worry.
I worry about my children, I worry now about my grandchild, I worry that life will not be kind to them. I worry that life will not be kind to me or to the people I love.
I worry near and I worry far. I worry about the state of the world, climate change, and I worry about those demons that rest close to me.
Worrying is destructive. It wakes you up at night and preoccupies you during the day. It takes away enjoyment of the moment, the now. Worry is a worm that sucks you dry.
There are things that I can do something about and there are things that I have no control over. Marching is good, letters to Congressmen and Senators, also good. Obsessive thinking about loved ones and their futures is a waste of energy.
Live in the joy of the moment and let this constant quisling go. Oh I wish I could.
If I can’t let it go at least I could quit pretending that everything is great during the day. If only to myself. Acknowledge that yes I am worried. There is nothing I can do about it. I am a hapless soul in the arms of an uncaring universe. And I carry on. I choose to be optimistic. I choose to offer succor and joy and keep my worries to myself
But at night, best beloved, the monsters creep out from under the bed, and rummage around in my head.
Not to be too melodramatic.
Worry is not love. Worry is anxiety about everything. When concern morphs into worry, it’s time to take it out of your head and examine it.
What can I do?
What didn’t I do(realistically)?
Have a drink of water
Go back to bed you big idiot it’s two in the morning.
Hello. Yes, this is Dog 
Mom used to say that we always worry about the wrong thing. When we got home from our month away I was worried about my two neighbors who are fighting with cancer. One was out of town again (was she getting more treatment?) the other had their rental up for sale (were things getting worse). Three days later we run into another neighbor and find out that the local “good neighbor” had died. Lenny was the neighbor who knew everything and helped everyone. There are a lot of single ladies in town who will find it hard to stay in their homes without his help. We attended his memorial at the Moose Lodge. He had started a biker group and they were all there. So were the folks from the Care Center and the neighbors and friends. He will be greatly missed. I was worried about the wrong things.
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I love you Jano.
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