I Worried

Monday, January 20

For today, Mary Oliver’s poem 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 gave it up. And took my old body
and went out into the morning,
and sang.

---

One of the lessons best learned early is how sharply diminishing the returns to worrying are — the first few mental cycles about an issue are useful, helping us scope out a problem and whether there is anything obvious that can be done.

So much that comes after is wasted motion.