Worry Makes Less and Less Sense

I used to feel twinges of comparison. I guess I could say that sometimes I still feel them, as I just did, which spawned this writing, but it passed very quickly.

I used to compare myself a lot to others and the way they were living their lives. In fact, the other day one of my friends told me that she doesn't like to go on Facebook because she always comes away feeling like her life is small and boring.

I'm sitting on my living room couch. My friend's birthday party going on in the back yard is kicking up to a ruckus, somewhat to my disappointment, as I'm a slut for my peace and quiet.

Anyway, moments ago I saw something on-line . . . a post by a musician friend describing what sounds like his glamorous life. And I felt this envy or comparison come up, like a subtle voice that says, Why aren't you living that life? You should be doing more. You're lazy, a loser, a fat kid on the couch.

It was a sweet little flicker, though, because I saw it come up, and I checked in with the veracity of those statements, and they just fell away.

Yes, I'm sitting here on my couch. But I don't feel the need or wish for anything other than this. That is, this is the life that's unfolding for me, and I don't wish for something different.

Even when I'm feeling stress, I wish I didn't have the feeling of stress, or I might wish for something to solve it, but my sense of a future is so blank, I can't look that far ahead to worry. It's as if worry makes less and less sense to me.

And still there are thoughts that come through . . . thoughts that threaten, that insist on worry, on fear, on strategizing, and though I suffer when they come through, ultimately they, too, pass, and life continues to go on.

And even when the worry comes, when the conflicted mind comes, as Mooji reminds us here, that, too, is seen, even as the peace is seen. And life continues to unfold beyond my mental comprehension.





It is a mysterious time for me. Will this relaxation settle more and more? It seems like the only way it can go. That is, the unfolding is inevitable. I don't see how I could go back to living from my thoughts. It doesn't make any logical sense, and I suppose it's simply the sense that I am a separate self with a sense of doership and responsibility to manage and control life that feeds the worry. I'm very curious right now. And grateful to my teachers.