“It is during our darkest moments that we must focus to see the light.” ~Aristotle
Outside my window a maple tree stands tall, ready to burst its winter bonds. Buds are about to open, and daffodils are heralding the arrival of spring in the city of Toronto.
It brings me joy to watch the trees try to catch up with the flowers.
Spring—in my opinion, the sole reason to suffer through winter—fills me with hope.
Because I choose to see it as faith in the future.
My TV and radio tell a different story, however, a story of anger, fear, and anxiety about the future of our fragile world. Worry created by constant “breaking news.”
I think of the environment and want to cry.
I think of Syria and the Middle East and my head hurts.
I think of North Korea and my jaw clenches, and I think, yeah, go ahead and have that dessert. Now, while I can.
All around me, people are experiencing chronic anxiety. When I focus on what might happen, I feel anxious, too.
In a weird way, the uptick in international tensions has forced me to find alternative ways of interpreting the whacky world events to which each of us must respond, individually as well as collectively.
What we create is a direct result of what we choose as our focus, where we put our attention, and how much we give to it.
So, I am spending more time in front of the window, watching my tree.
Because it fills me with hope and joy, and I feel grateful when I focus on it.
It’s one antidote to anxiety and the best I can do for myself, and those with whom I live and work.
