Making this move to Florida is a big deal.  We’ve chosen to embark on this adventure, so we see it as an opportunity to grow, to be with family, to explore new opportunities, and to shift in our way of being.  Even though we see this change in many positive ways, we’ve discovered lots of ways to worry about what will happen.

It would be easy for me to worry about the move ahead—the list of potential worries is endless!!  Will the sale of our current house close this week?  What if the deal falls through?  What if driving our two cars in order to transport very old bonsai plants is a major hassle?  What if some of them still die from the trauma along the way?  What if we don’t like our rental home which we need to live in while our home is still being built?  What if the new home doesn’t meet our expectations?  What if the summer humidity is overwhelming?  The list of worrying opportunities is endless, and because we’ve decided not to do serious packing until this house sale closes (because we worry that something might happen to stop the sale), we have lots of time on our hands to worry about every single thing!

    I’ve found, though, that worrying can be a devastating indulgence:  it can prevent me, most importantly, from appreciating what is unfolding in my life during this important period of transition.  I think, too, that it’s important to plan for contingencies—the “what ifs” of this life-changing transition.  But planning for contingencies is not worrying—worrying is being pre-occupied with what might happen, without planning for contingencies, in a way that can dominate and distort my everyday consciousness and prohibit me from observing and enjoying what is happening in this interim period.  So how do I stop, or at least minimize, my worrying??

    I don’t expect not to worry; I allow it to surface, ask myself if the worry is based in a legitimate concern that I can deal with.  If there is nothing I can do, I note the energy of the worry, but I don’t indulge it:  I literally find something else to think about or do.  If I were to find myself obsessively worrying, I would allow myself 15 minutes per day to worry myself to my heart’s content (which I haven’t had to do), and after 15 minutes, move on to something else to read, listen to, or physically occupy myself.  I know this requires a level of discipline and commitment, but I’m up to it for two reasons:

First, my worrying at this time will affect my relationship with my friends and family, as I enjoy these days with them.  Instead of appreciating each moment I have with them, I’d be dominating our interactions with my fear, my discomfort, my complaining.  That’s not the way I want to spend this time with people who are precious in my life.  I may mention concerns, but I’m not going to allow those concerns to create barriers between myself and others as I indulge fears of the future that will likely have little to no relevance.

    Second, worrying creates barriers between me and ever-present spirit.  How can I open to Presence when I’m pre-occupied about saying good-bye to people here in California?  Not only can I not be open to Presence, but I deprive myself of the beauty of experiencing the All, each and every day, when my mind is obsessing elsewhere.  I also am unavailable to receiving spiritual wisdom, the reminder that I have little control of my life, that all is impermanent.  I also miss the chance to open to an energy that can nurture and sustain me.

    For me, working with worrying is a balancing act.  Sometimes I indulge the worry to see if it’s telling me something I need to know.  Other times, I realize I’m only indulging my fear of the unknown.  Still other times, I can give it a moment’s attention, take a deep breath, and allow myself to be present in each moment as it manifests in this time of transition and change.  What a wonderful opportunity to witness my life as this time of life unfolds.