Pax Plena

It’s a drop past 10:30 AM here in Colorado. I really do like this state. For all of the shenanigans going on in the Country and the World, the Rocky Mountains look on at the folly of man with muted bemusement.

And that’s as it should be. We humans have much foolishness to commend to them on our own behalf. And yet, in this place, the day carries on, unimpeded by the ebbs and flows of time.

Today on my walk, the Prairie Dogs heralded my arrival and departure. They’re certainly plumping up for the throes of winter still to come.

Today also brought on a new group of buddies on my walk. A flock of Canadian Geese stopped by as they headed south for the winter. They sat placidly on the cold artificial pond here in the neighborhood. A gaggle of nonplussed creatures if ever there were.

Even Kitty sits by the window taking in the faint sunlight of a cloudy, early-winter’s day.

From the animals, we see life is so simple. Yet, we humans have a knack for making things complicated.

We fret and beat ourselves up over all three phases of time: We worry about our pasts and lost opportunities that we can do nothing to affect; we worry about our present and the extent to which what we do today will impact our tomorrow; and we worry about tomorrow and what fresh hell it might bring. And for what? Whither our worries?

I can’t in good conscience say that worrying about anything has ever made life easier.

But I think that even on this score we are overly harsh with ourselves. It’s true that worry is superfluous. But worry means that we care. Somewhere, deep in the heart, we worry because we do care about outcomes. We care for our present and future, those we love, and even about our actions in those moments of time that have already passed.

And the reality is, I’d much rather worry and care than feel nothing at all.