Worrying

in the weeds

On Monday, the bus to pick up the children after tutoring was an hour late. I’m responsible for the transportation, so that was a big worry. The kids were patient and good-natured, and the school staff were helpful and supportive, and the college students/tutors generously committed to staying while we waited. All eyes were on me, and I remained (relatively) calm, calling the bus company, trying to solve a problem of miscommunication and misdirection. And apparently continued bus driver shortages. I was anxious about it all. The children cheered when the bus arrived, and I joined them sighing with relief.

Despite the relief, and all’s well that ends well, I carried that worry with me on our last day of tutoring on Wednesday. Would the bus arrive on time? Would everything go off as planned for our last day celebration? Would all the pieces come together?

***

A friend recently shared this poem by Mary Oliver with me: “I worried” -

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,
hopeless.

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 I gave it up. And took my old body
and went out into the morning,
and sang.

by Mary Oliver

***

We humans can be ridiculous, can’t we? We think we have so much control over things. Mary Oliver pokes fun at herself and us, to think we can control the movement of the rivers and the earth. I’ve written about the illusion of control before - in “Control & choice” and “Letting go” and sprinkled in other posts too.

We can, of course, plan as best we can and take care of ourselves as best we can and choose good and positive actions as best we can. And, still, there is much that is outside of our control.

Here’s where our attitude can help, which is part of what I wrote about last week in “Reframing.” I can notice how, despite the fact that we’re waiting an hour for the bus, all the people around me are acting in supportive and positive ways. That despite it all - the weather is good, and so it’s fine to just be outside on a sunny spring evening in April.

Nature teaches us reframing too. The winter is long, and still the spring blooms WILL come. Nothing can stop that. The dandelions are weeds. Or are they wishes? Dandelions can have many benefits, both to the soil in which they grow and to humans who consume them as greens or teas. A quick google search resulted in many articles about that. In the article “Ten things you might now know about dandelions,” I read: “Before the invention of lawns, people praised the golden blossoms and lion-toothed leaves as a bounty of food, medicine and magic.” Whether you view dandelions as weeds or not, and no judgement either way, they do teach us a valuable lesson about perspective and reframing.

In that regard, I’ve heard a lot lately about reframing worry as excitement instead. For example, instead of saying “I’m worried” about the move or the job or the meeting or the event, say “I’m excited.” I can’t credit this concept, as I’ve heard it numerous places. But I’ve tested it a bit. And I definitely think it helps!

Of course, that’s not going to work with truly serious challenges like health crises or impending natural disasters. And also, I don’t want to diminish mental health concerns like anxiety disorder and depression. Also, we live in truly worrying times. Violence and war are part of our lives, whether in our own communities or across the ocean. Instability and animosity are features of our economies and politics. There’s no way around that. There’s nothing to say except - yes, that’s all very worrying and very difficult. To offer solidarity or support when and where we can.

***

And in our day-to-day lives - we can reframe, we can hope, we can see the good and the beauty that exist in our world despite all the darkness and difficulty.

We can do what we can to alleviate suffering in this world and also do as Mary Oliver suggests and take our bodies out into the morning and sing. And hope.

Thanks for reading!

With gratitude,

Mary