I read something interesting today. The author described a phase in her life filled with uncertainty and anxiety about the future—something we can all easily relate to. She described the experience as living in a thick fog—but not one that is frightening or unsettling. Rather, it was a fog that felt like a warm, soft blanket surrounding her. While she couldn’t see what lay in the distance, she could clearly see what was right in front of her. She could feel with her feet whether the next step would land on solid ground or lead her into an abyss. “You always have enough information to take the next step.”
Isn’t that enough? If I know that my next step is “right” and won’t put me in danger, why do I often worry about the future? If the 20 steps I take today are all “safe and right”—because I feel the solid ground before I take each step—why do I think that the 21st step which I take tomorrow will suddenly lead me completely astray?
Of course, sometimes situations or other people influence my path, but as an adult, I am rarely pushed or forced into a particular direction. Even if I fall, if the ground beneath me gives way, or if I walk in a direction that turns out to be unhelpful, ultimately, I decide what happens next. I can turn around, ask for help, and re-decide. Most adult decisions are not permanent.
Anxiety tends to creep in when I try to plan the next 10, 20, or 100 steps in advance. When I do that, I can’t possibly prepare for all the “what ifs” without feeling overwhelmed (remember those exponential growth curves?). But in reality, I don’t need to be afraid if I only focus on the next step. Why, then, do we humans still experience so much worry? Why do we spend so much time planning steps 16, 37, or even 94, instead of just concentrating on the next “right and safe” step? And what would happen if we stopped investing so much time and energy into worrying about the future?
My plan for the week: I will focus on the next step, and only then will I look ahead to the next one.