So much anxiety.
Even here, in this small town Shire-like piece of Ontario, we dutifully find our regular dose of Fox news or its equivalent so we can chew on our worry in a bizarrely informed way.
If not Fox or Sinclair and the suspicious smell of fascism, or the use of our tax dollars to bail out yet another oil pipeline through the wilderness project, then about Stan the heavy-bearded wanderer toasting muttered anarchy with Listerine; about the goose wandering alone for a month in the open field; the pencil thin young woman entering then leaving the methadone clinic to the profit of some private business person who would rather she stay addicted.
The young, ballcapped man, tight with sloppy rage, yanks an aging woman out of a broken down house, her shirt still open to a tan-coloured pushup bra. Every window in the house is smashed.
Here in the shire, on my way to the store for cream.
We share our news in the bank lineup, the grocery store, the gas station like chatter over an undertow of unease… is any belief system, economic system, political system, educational system not showing signs of extreme erosion, even as others crumble?
It’s not just the climate that’s changing (…weather’s odd for this time of year, doesn’t feel right….).
Today a friend asked, “What do you know for certain?”. About anything, she meant. Gave me pause.
I said that I suspect I have a working theory about how things change, but certainly no certainly.
Whatever work I’ve been able to accomplish – internal and external – in these past few years has been a more or less messy mobius of intention, action, and reflection. All three balanced and juggled like plates or knives, never still, never dropped. But this is abstract.
Think. Choose. Do. Think again. Do differently, Think. Choose again. et cetera.
My working theory is that, A) pivot points occur only in the doing.
B) well-considered doing (not just ‘busy-ness’) is an effective antidote to worry.