Everyone has worried about something at one time or another, and many worry every day.
I found that many things I worried about were self-manufactured. I wanted a method to deal with worries, so when I found myself worrying, I would ask: Is this worry real or imagined?

If imagined, I stopped worrying about it. If the worry was real, I then questioned if there was something I could do about it now. If I could, I did it and there was no longer reason to worry. If it was something that could not be handled right away, I asked myself when it could be handled and made a note on a “To Do” list with a specific date. If it was something completely out of my control, and there was absolutely nothing I could do about it now or in the future, I pushed it out of my mind.

We know that we are all going to die. When or where that will happen we don’t know, unless we decide to end it ourselves - definitely not recommended. Considering all the things that cause us to worry, I asked myself, what if I dropped dead tomorrow? What would happen to all the things I worry about? Would someone else step in and handle it? Would the things I worried about be of concern to anyone else? In any case, my worrying days would be over.

I decided to do an experiment.

When something caused me to worry I would write it down on a “Worry List.” For the sake of creating at least one such worry list, I finally did it. I took my list and jumped in my car. I wanted someplace quiet where I could worry undisturbed, so I went to the cemetery. It was beautifully maintained with live plants as in a flower garden, and peaceful. I realized that the beauty was for the benefit of the visitor, not the dearly departed. I found a bench under a shade tree and took out my worry list. I planned to start with number one on my list, worry about that, and then continue until I had worried about everything listed. Most often I discovered how foolish my worry was and the act of writing it down was just plain stupid.

The headstone directly in front of me, however, got my attention. I noted the name of the deceased, his date of birth and death. Next to his name was the name of his wife who died three years later. I wondered what kind of life they had had. Did they love each other? Did they quarrel? I wondered what kind of worries they had during their lifetime before their worrying days were over.

By the time I looked at several headstones wondering what kind of people they were, how they may have struggled to live or just survive, I got up and left. On the way out of the cemetery I tore up my worry list and dropped it into the trashcan. I wondered what would happen when I became a memory. What would people remember about me? Did I make a difference in their life? Did I contribute to society? Would there be a record of my life that was worthy?

When I got home, I went to the bookshelf and picked up my first published book. As I leafed through the pages, I thought about my travels, the people I met and the many spoken words. I knew that my words would be forgotten, but what I had written would remain. I am pleased to be an author and hope that what I write will be meaningful to someone. As for worrying, unless I can do something about it, why bother?

Very nice, Abe.

Carol

Thanks Carol.

I will ask my husband to read this, Abe. He worries far too much.