Looking at Life from 10,000 Miles

Hey, even Julie Andrews worries

I’m a worrier. I’m a woman. Sometimes I think they’re the same. My husband doesn’t worry about anything. No, I take that back, he worries about business. He’s a man. Maybe I’m being sexist, but in my house that’s the way it is.

Lately I’ve been worrying about people I love and circumstances I have little control, but wish I had LOTS of control, over. Throw in the holidays, birthdays, publication deadlines and the nagging feeling of so much to do and so little time, and well… I’m a bit of a basket case.

A few nights ago my loving husband made the mistake of walking past my office and asking me how I was. (Yeah-big mistake!) I burst into tears, and good man (foolish man) that he is, he came in and sat down.

I poured out my woes and he listened. The answer, of course, was clear. I needed to detach. To “Let Go and Let God,” as they say. But how? Easy to do with politics, toothaches, and even with distant relatives… but impossible, I pointed out, with loved ones. Especially children!

To make a long conversation short, he said one thing that actually made quite an impact. (Don’t tell him—he’ll be walking into my office offering advice all the time!) He suggested I look at the problem from 10,000 miles out. Imagine that! Imagine looking at your worst problem—better yet—your kid’s problem from 10,000 miles up in outer space.

So I did. I imagined myself floating somewhere way above the Earth. Not far enough to get burnt by the sun, mind you; but far enough so that the Earth looked like a big round globe. And you know, from that distance, I gained perspective.

My loved ones may struggle, but they aren’t alone. And they aren’t unique. There in front of my eyes was a planet covered with billions of humans. All of them—all of us doomed to evolve the only way we can, by learning from our mistakes and overcoming struggles. Whether you believe it’s part of some greater Higher Power’s plan or not, that’s how it is. From that perspective, worrying (a.k.a. wishing our loved ones would have a totally smooth ride) is like expecting rain only on Wednesdays from 9 pm to 6 am. It’s just not going to happen that way. So, rather than worry that our loved ones are struggling, we should expect it. And like rain, while it’s not always convenient and not always pleasant, facing struggles, mistakes, opportunities… whatever you wish to call them, is necessary if we are to grow. What would the Earth be without water? What point to life, if we have nothing to learn?

Up there at 10,000 miles I also noticed a few other things. People struggled, but they also laughed and smiled and loved. And I should expect—no, rather, I should know perfectly well, my loved ones will experience that too.


5 thoughts on “Looking at Life from 10,000 Miles

  1. Kathy B. says:

    Thanks, Lorijo. I have two friends with serious breast cancer right now (one about to go into a Hospice facility) and both women have children. . .it is overwhelming – but having a larger perspective certainly helps. I appreciate your sharing that perspective – thanks!


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