“And which of you by worrying can add a single hour to your span of life?”
I Worried” by Mary Oliver
I worried a lot.
Will the garden grow, will the rivers flow in the right direction, will the earth turn as it was taught, and if not how shall I correct it?
Was I right, was I wrong, will I be forgiven, can I do better?
Will I ever be able to sing, even the sparrows can do it and I am, well, hopeless?
Is my eyesight fading or am I just imagining it, am I going to get
rheumatism, lockjaw, or dementia?
Finally, I saw that worrying had come to nothing. And gave it up. And took
my old body and went out into the morning, and sang.