My sweet friend Julia shared this poem last week, and it was so perfectly timed for me, the reminder that worry is like praying for what you don’t want to happen, that it is counterproductive and even destructive, and at its most innocent it comes to nothing, so it’s okay to let it go, to open up and sing. I thought maybe you might need the reminder too, kind and gentle reader.

I Worried
Mary Oliver

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.