Every once in a while, if I'm not careful, I realize that this heart has collected eight thousand impossibilities, all of the worry of so many things out of my control. I worry about the world and what it will look like when our children are our children. I worry about talents that haven't been graced to me. I worry about earth quakes and car crashes and terrible fires. I worry about being voiceless. I find most often that I am worried about my future self, that I will run away from myself and sleep away the next eighteen years. I am afraid that I will get lost in a dreamless sleep. I am afraid I will forget how to wonder. I am afraid that I will never learn to love. And funny, this fear always sneaks up and engulfs me when I have been running to hard, fighting too much, clinging to desperately to make things happen; it happens when I am tired and doing work that isn't meant for my hands, when I have forgotten to anchor and be still and honor the heartsong ringing in my ears.
And if, at the end of the day, you feel lost and broken, or if you climb into bed and everything you've worried about is now sitting on your chest like an intrusive, fuzzy, overweight cat, congratulate your weary soul on working so hard that day, recall even the smallest victories of the day (the bed was made! You ate something healthy! You were kind to a stranger!), and keep singing, "it's going to be okay, it's all going to be okay."