We are capable. Full stop. I know, conversely, that that’s an exhausting statement. Just writing it tires me out. But that’s because we’re looking forward at all those circumstances (not gonna lie–most of them fabricated in our intricate and endlessly dark imaginations) yet to come that we’ll then have to overcome.
So we have to stop that, that forward-looking thing. It’s so habitual we hardly notice it. And when we call ourselves out on it, we automatically say we can’t. It’s impossible to stop. But here’s some tough love–too bad. We have to stop. Planning is one thing. Useless worry is another. Return to the breath. No excuses. Return to the breath. For ten seconds. Five. Whatever. Just do it.
The breath is our companion until, at last, it isn’t. It’s our constant. It’s the small being lying nestled next to the heart, calling here, now; here, now; here, now. Here. Now.
Amy Holt 