Here’s what I’ve learned about rising above worry:

Be sure to let yourself feel first.
Don’t confuse the elimination of worry with a vow to the stoic life. It’s OK to be sad or anxious or ticked off or confused or concerned even (not the same as worry, by the way).  These are all beautiful, natural responses, and part of the human experience.

And the best thing you can do is to allow them to move through you. Emotion is energy in motion after all.

If your heart aches… let it rain and sob away.
If anger is built… constructively find an outlet (pillows are still the best).
If you just don’t understand “why” (the most honest and real feeling of ‘em all)… let it be known by talking it out, writing it out, screaming it out, whatever one must do.  Just don’t let it stagnate.

You can’t release worry without complete self-integrity.  It’s a locksmith and prereq to your Highest point of view — and that’s what we’re after.

Skip the script.
Think about your current worry:  how much of it is actually real?  In other words, is it truly your fear or a projection of how you think you “should” be feeling? Our conditioned intelligence assumes that we must embed ourselves into some kind of story as to feel a part of something.

F.Y.I… attaching yourself to the front page, the crisis, the headline, the cause, the past, the diagnosis, the bleak future, the “drama”, it doesn’t make you any more associated, considerate, involved with, constructive, in control of, or caring of a world citizen.  It just means worry has made you a victim too.

Instead, Hold the Light by skipping the script completely.  Write your own with hugs and encouraging deeds and divine redirection.  Want to be a noble soul?  Pen your own narrative.

Choose compassion.
Cliché?  Maybe. Underutilized?  Definitely.

This isn’t empathy either.  Compassion has an active element of blessing and desiring the efficient and fluent Victory for any and all parties involved.  It doesn’t fester, it responds and never “feels bad for.”  Difference:

I feel bad for the impoverished.
I’m blessing their inborn wealth.

I feel bad for the sick.
I’m loving on their perfect health.

I feel bad for the Middle East.
I’m visualizing their peaceful future.

(And yes, praying, intending, wishing, loving on, singing to, Rosary reciting, meditating, believing in, drum circling, mala bead counting, and doing yoga for is in fact ACTIVE.  You don’t have to organize a 5k or donate blood or adopt a Lebanese child or start a Facebook group to raise the vibration of the planet).

Love is proactive.  Move with it.

Steer clear of negativity.
Pessimists are pessimists because underneath the surface they feel helpless. Their M.O. then is to suck you into a vacuum of worry and expand their army of gloom.  As they say, only two things happen when you wrestle with a pig: you get dirty, and the pig likes it.  Whatever you do, avoid the Debbie Downer nearest you.

http://www.hulu.com/watch/19280

Relinquish the need to draw conclusions.
You know the line, “Everyone has an opinion.”  Sure, but do we really need to analyze…. like everything?  If shit has hit the fan, worst-case scenario’s are probably pretty evident.  And regardless of external judgment, things will play out the way things will play out. Take a still pill.  Relax.  Let neutrality be your calling card.  Observing is conscious contribution and can be the grandest of services.

Keep breathing.
In case you’ve forgotten.

There’s a lot of chaos in the world as we speak.  War, natural disaster, guns, political upheaval, this cause/that projection, yadi yadi yada.  Network news loves it. Social media feeds on it.  Everyday people heighten it.  How?

They worry.

Of course we do.

May I ask why?

Because we care.

Interesting.  So worry then is synonymous with compassion?  Is that what I’m hearing?

Yeah… I suppose it is.

Oh boy, where to begin?

HOW ABOUT HERE

Worry:  to torment oneself with or suffer from disturbing thoughts;  to move with effort;  fret.

I didn’t make that up.  That’s the dictionary definition.  Ask yourself: helpful or harmful?  Uplifting or sinking?  Supportive or destructive?

Hey, I never said I slept well.

Forgive me, but I sort of pieced that together.  I mean, you might as well call it self-torture, right?  That and the fact that ‘worry,’ literally speaking, derives from the Old English word wyrgan meaning “to strangle.”  Or maybe you prefer the German root würgen, also meaning “to strangle.”  Pick your poison. Or rope for that matter.

Might I suggest something?

Sure, why not.

STOP WORRYING.  

I know it makes you feel heroic, courageous, and an admirable, altruistic part of the world.  But seriously, it’s not flattering.  What else it’s not:  the job of a good parent, in the Bible, the formula for a flourishing non-profit, and/or a TED talk gone viral.

You’re telling me that you don’t worry?

Sure don’t.  Never have.  Never will.

Whoa, a macho man you are…

I didn’t say that I don’t support others or get scared about or feel deeply for or occasionally get ticked off at the silliness of humanity and the unfortunate fate that happens to great souls.  Like anyone else, I absolutely do.  It’s natural.  But I don’t pump worry gasoline onto the fire.  Not my job, not yours.  And I’ll tell you why.

Worry is a FEAR-fueled, energy-sucking, manipulative endeavor that tricks you into believing you’re doing the “right” thing.

But if you read the fine print, you’ll see:  reactor, mental/spiritual/emotional tick, and what the French call saboteur.  It will eat you alive.  The more you worry about your friend with cancer, the state of the economy, the election, tax and healthcare reform, the job offer, climate change, or your kid driving with a cell phone, the more power you give to the issue at hand.

Do you think Buddhist monks and Vatican priests, who are blessing all of us as we speak, sit in prayer and meditation for hours on end enfolding the planet in a ring of Love only to 10 minutes later exacerbate their prayer and good vibes by flipping on the tube and being swallowed whole by network news?  I don’t think so.

Which brings me to the one step.

WORRY vs. WONDER

“You either pray or you worry.  Not both.”   -50 Cent

Thanks Fiddy.

Wonder:  to think or speculate curiously;  to be filled with awe.

Worry stresses.  Wonder blesses.
Worry is a mental circus.  Wonder is no mind.
Worry goes outward.  Wonder stays inward.
Worry is a road block.  Wonder is a bridge.
Worry attaches.  Wonder liberates.
Worry bathes in fear.  Wonder swims in possibility.
Worry is a dementor.  Wonder is a Patronus (in Harry Potter lingo that is).

Worry takes you southbound in the speedy direction polar your Heart’s Desires.  It bolts from intent, scattered and slippery. Wonder, on the other hand, flows from a well of stillness and surrender. It’s mindful and responsive, not reactionary. Like so:

I worry my friends won’t be there for me.
I wonder when my self-approval will be enough.

I worry about climate change.
I wonder how I can support Mother Earth.

I worry that he’ll never awake from his depressive funk.
I wonder when he’ll remember his heart’s purpose.

I worry she’ll get laid off.
I wonder the blessing it might bestow.

I worry about his travels to a foreign country.
I wonder the trust it will mold.

The wonder approach is affirmative, but detached action.  Which means, of course, feathers will be ruffled.  The worrywarts of the world, lost amidst their drama (one they’re unconsciously feeding), will mislabel you as selfish and lazy.  Others will say, “Oh, he’s smug and arrogant. He doesn’t even care.”

Your response?  So be it.

What they don’t know (because they’re drowning in worry) is that your laissez-faire attitude is a consciously-driven choice to step outside the soap opera.  Not because you don’t care, not because you’re an inconsiderate person, because you’re holding the Light.  In everything, for everyone. Blessing the situation with wisdom and paradigm shifts.  Clearing space for miracles to unfurl. Coincidentally, or not really at all, the word “miracle” comes from the root mirari, which means “to wonder.” You can’t script this stuff.

So hold the Light.  Send Light.  Be the Light.  Stay anchored in wonder.  It’s the purest form of compassion there is.  Some will understand, some won’t.

It’s a demanding job, but someone’s gotta do it.

To complement last week’s post, here are some ideas and add-ons for stepping through magical doorways:

Show up, but let the picture paint itself.
Two things magic doesn’t own:  a day planner, and a watch. That’s because it can’t be scheduled and it knows no speed.

What it does love, love, love is continuous inspired activity.  Do so by sticking to the moment at hand.  Your now-NESS is a portal to loads of behind-the-scenes magic the Youniverse is currently orchestrating.  TIP:  Breathe.  Three times a day — morning, lunch, evening — make it a point to return to the present through some conscious breathing.  Throw a couple thankfuls or a love mantra on top of that…. and boom, back to the NOW.

Qualify always.
No matter what your spiritual supremacy looks like – the Big Guy, the ocean, your authentic self, Jerry Garcia, your dog, archangel Michael, the magical girl from the 90’s movie Matilda – be sure to lay your intentions on the table first. You wouldn’t you go to a restaurant and expect the waiter to guess your order, would you?

Those experiencing their Victory are those in charge of their intent.  

Be adamant in your requests.  Give ‘em a little moxie if need be.  And relentlessly affirm and reaffirm that the details are being arranged.  TIP #2: Qualify with specificity.  The Youniverse only knows creation.  Be sure to label it with clean energy and a graceful unfolding for all.

Keep feeding the beat.
We’re raised and reared on a keep-your-hands-full paradigm.  Uh… gag me.  Full of what exactly?  Just full?  “Good” busy as we robotically say.  As if a hectic schedule is the Heaven’s recipe for everlasting joy in the world. My suggestion… gut this old-school thought pattern today.

Instead, switch to a keep-yourself-fulfilled paradigm.  Big, big difference.  Heart versus head; quality versus quantity.  Here, you’re active with a purpose, not merely to stay out of trouble or report back to your parents or to do what everyone else is doing.  When I nurture my spirit inklings, I’m far more open to the signals life is throwing at me, and subsequently, a lot more in tune with the next turn to take.

Stay in the play.
Play is a responsibility, not a luxury.  That’s because responsibility is our “ability to respond.”  If your soul is craving a day at the park or a round of golf with your friends, and you’re not responding, you’re not being responsible.  It’s no different than drinking water when your mouth is dry.

Have you ever heard of a child hanging out with a friend over a cup of coffee? Probably not.  That’s because children play.  They’re pulled by it and respond. Life is a subjective adventure.  Deem it a game, it will be.  Deem it a sentence, it too will be.  Never stop playing.  More fun = more magic.

Life must be lived as play — Plato.

Let the simple be the profound.
Sometimes I’ll be hiking deep in the forest and think “What if a great big owl flew and landed on my shoulder?  Talk about cosmic confirmation!”  Yet, as ethereal as this would be (and I’m still open to it, by the way), it’s a major spiritual ego trip, and not the faintest echo of how I interpret the Divine.

If you’re conditional with how your road is paved, and always needing something bigger, better, and super-duper paranormal or out-of-this-world – Mother Mary appearing on the hammock in the back yard or the mailman delivering the winning lottery numbers in a golden envelope addressed to your name – you’ll always be waiting.

Thoreau beautifully wrote, “Could a greater miracle take place than for us to look through each other’s eyes for an instant?”  Magic has very little to do with phenomena.  It has everything, though, to do with our perception.  Let your world be blown by the day-to-day.

SIDE STORY FROM THE ROAD:  I’ve really detached to the pace of my current trip and continue to follow anything that intrigues me.  Yesterday, I walked around a small college in rural Vermont.  Quaint town.  Glowingly green campus.  And what do I find out?  They are the two-time national champions in Quidditch (yeah, like the Harry Potter-fly-on-brooms sport).  I couldn’t script this stuff.

AND FINALLY….

Release it all.
You gotta make space for magic to bear its fruit.  And trust is the ultimate form of letting go.  Surrender to life’s riddle….

And I have a funny feeling that the magic might just find you.