Pax Plena

Category: Worry

  • Letting Go…

    I feel like each new year, I set a theme, or perhaps some goals and resolutions, but by February, it’s back to the mantra – new year, same me. Or as Taylor Swift might say, “It’s me. Hi. I’m the problem, it’s me.” The lone common thread in all of these past failed attempts is yours truly.

    But I’ve been thinking about a question I saw recently whilst scrolling social media: “What do you want to let go of in the new year” and this struck me as a much more productive way to think about closing out 2025 and welcoming 2026. I suppose for some folks this might be a bit of a mind-bender. But the resounding response to the question, direct from my subconscious was stress.

    Stress and worry. The antithesis of silver and gold. Or leather and lace for that matter. But the point is the same. These evil twins have haunted me for the better part of my life to the point where I’m not entirely sure what a stress-free, worry-free existence would look like.

    The problem stems from triggers. There are so many of them. Whether its stress or worry, they can all at various times utterly debilitate me.

    So, there seems some wisdom in thinking about the opposite of those triggers. This led me to try and recall the most peaceful day I can remember.

    And I remember it well.

    I was a sophomore at Dartmouth. We were pressing toward the end of Spring term and finals had just wrapped up. Class had not yet begun, and Sophomore Summer was on deck (this is where the rest of the campus goes away except for the sophomore class who take a couple of classes and generally enjoy the New England summer from the comfort of alma mater). So, after a jaunt to church in Woodstock, VT, I made my way back to campus and stopped off near the Quechee, VT dam. I meandered away from the little shops along the town’s main drag and found a perfectly-manicured, expansive, green lawn near the river.

    And I did something I seldom do. I laid down. Right in the middle of the park. The sun warmed my face. A late spring breeze rustled my hair and I remember thinking to myself, in that moment, all was right with the world. And it was. I was a young man. No money. No debt. No expectations. Just a full belly after church and the promise of an entire summer ahead.

    I’ve often thought about this day as being one of the ‘good ole days.’ A better time than the present. In most respects that day fit the bill. But I didn’t recognize it like this at the time.

    The four, halcyon years of college were some of the best I had. And yet, even in the midst of them all, I had yearnings for a future time. For better things and better times.

    The lesson I take from this and the social media question posed is simply that the good ole days are really now. Not some distant future point that may or may not come. Not some future when all of the hard work pays off, and the debt is gone and life is where we think we want it to be. It’s really, just, today.

    I think the rub is to recognize each day for what it is. To free the mind from worry. And memento mori. No future interests are guaranteed.

    So, I’m not sure how, but my goal among others is to let go of those evil twins, stress and worry. They haven’t been terribly helpful anyway.

  • Thoughts from Colorado

    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.