Dear marvelous brained human Sara,
My brain loves to worry the way it always has. It's like a familiar footpath—it knows every twist and turn. But lately, I've started to notice just how long I've been walking- and crawling-that same path of worry. Decades! And no surprise—it usually begins with a certain word:
How.
How will I…?
How will it…?
How can we possibly…?
My darling husband, the angel of love David, teaches something he calls "Move the W." It's where you take the W from the word how and move it to the front—now the question becomes Who?
Who will do it?
Who will help me?
Who will help the world?
The answer isn't always satisfying to the part of me that likes to worry. That part wants concrete solutions now, with a neat exit from the worry. But the answers to Who? often come from the invisible realms: God, angels, unseen helpers. Sometimes, of course, the Who is an actual person. But even then, it's often not someone I could have predicted.
David also suggested I keep a Worry Journal, where I track the actual outcomes of my worries. I've only been keeping it for a week—and already I've noticed something miraculous: none of the things I worried about have happened the way I worried they would.
Only one thing turned out worse than I'd imagined—and that's rare. I triumphantly told David that this proved worry was sometimes justified. He just smiled and said, "That situation isn't over yet." And I was reminded of the quiet power in that word: yet.
A long-ago friend once said, "Worry is not preparation."
Aha! I had thought it was.
So I worried my way forward, convinced I was preparing well. But not surprisingly, all that worry didn't prevent the things I was trying to protect myself from.
Sure, some preparation is wise. I'm talking about the incessant preparation—those endless loops my mind gets into that aren't actually helping at all.
Now, I'm experimenting with worrying differently.
I'm aligning with what the poet Mary Oliver meant in this excerpt from her poem I Worried:
"Finally, I saw that worrying had come to nothing.
And gave it up. And took my old body
and went out into the morning,
and sang."
©️Mary Oliver
Recently, I was at the dentist and told that a tooth needs restoration. I heard so many dreaded phrases! My worry immediately kicked in—resistance, agitation, panic. But then I remembered a new tool: re-regulating my nervous system. I went into the bathroom and did a quick body shake—like an animal does after a close call. In just 30 seconds, I felt calmer, steadier, ready to face my dental adventure.
Even more surprising—I actually forgot about the dentist once I got home. That kind of forgetting was either a first for me, or something so rare I'd forgotten what it felt like not to worry.
Soft sky. Quiet moon.
A gentle reminder: worry is not preparation.
Presence is.
Now, I understand more about that simple phrase: "not to worry."
It's becoming a new mission of mine—to practice being present more often than worrying.
If you tend toward worry too, I invite you to join me. Let's learn to worry differently, together. I'd truly love to hear what you discover.
 ,
p.s. It's darling David's birthday tomorrow, if you'd like to wish him a happy birthday! Special invitation: use the word bliss in your wish for him—he'll love it.
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