Discard Anxiety
- Get link
- X
- Other Apps
"Today I escaped anxiety. Or no, I discarded it, because it was within me, in my own perceptions not outside." (Marcus Aurelius)
Which is easier to manage: a bundle of wood, or a stick of wood? How often we look at a situation and begin to spiral about the burden. "It's too big," or "I can't do this," or "the pressure is too great!" and before long anxiety has blurred our vision, weakened our resolve and undermined our foundations. When we build a fire, we don't carry the whole stack inside at once. We take a few sticks at a time and before long the entire pile has been moved! Why focus on the wood pile when all we need is to move one stick at a time?
Which is easier to manage: a bundle of wood, or a stick of wood? How often we look at a situation and begin to spiral about the burden. "It's too big," or "I can't do this," or "the pressure is too great!" and before long anxiety has blurred our vision, weakened our resolve and undermined our foundations. When we build a fire, we don't carry the whole stack inside at once. We take a few sticks at a time and before long the entire pile has been moved! Why focus on the wood pile when all we need is to move one stick at a time?
You've heard the old joke, "how do you eat an elephant?"
The answer is "one bite at a time."
So when you feel worry set in, discard it. Anxiety won't help move the pile and will drain your energy. Anxiety won't add years to your life. How often we work ourselves up into an unnecessary lather!
Be kind to yourself and discard anxiety. When you discard anxiety, you have control. Anxiety has no control over you. It's a lie. Change your perception of what troubles you.
- Get link
- X
- Other Apps
Popular posts from this blog
I’ll Be Gnome For Christmas
“And so, about this tomb of mine . . . “
“VANITY, saith the preacher, vanity! Draw round my bed: is Anselm keeping back? Nephews—sons mine … ah God, I know not! Well— She, men would have to be your mother once, Old Gandolf envied me, so fair she was! What’s done is done, and she is dead beside, Dead long ago, and I am Bishop since, And as she died so must we die ourselves, And thence ye may perceive the world’s a dream. Life, how and what is it? As here I lie In this state-chamber, dying by degrees, Hours and long hours in the dead night, I ask “Do I live, am I dead?” Peace, peace seems all. Saint Praxed’s ever was the church for peace; And so, about this tomb of mine. I fought With tooth and nail to save my niche, ye know: —Old Gandolf cozened me, despite my care; Shrewd was that snatch from out the corner South He graced his carrion with, God curse the same! Yet still my niche is not so cramped...
The Island-Fish
“O ye passengers, whom may God preserve! come up quickly in to the ship, hasten to embark, and leave your merchandise, and flee with your lives, and save yourselves from destruction; for this apparent island, upon which ye are, is not really an island, but it is a great fish that hath become stationary in the midst of the sea, and the sand hath accumulated upon it, so that it hath become like an island, and trees have grown upon it since times of old; and when ye lighted the fire upon it, the fish felt the heat, and put itself in motion, and now it will descend with you into the sea, and ye will all be drowned: then seek for yourselves escape before destruction, and leave the merchandise.—The passengers, therefore, hearing the words of the master of the ship, hastened to go up into the vessel, leaving the merchandise, and their other goods, and their copper cooking-pots, and their fire-pots; and some reached the ship, and others reached it not. The island had moved, and descended...