"Worry and you'll die. Don't worry and you'll die. So why worry?"
I discovered this quote in the book, Vanishing Ireland, in a cozy bookstore in Dingletown, Ireland. The book profiles regular people, old people, who live from the land. Farmer Pat Gleeson's philosophy on worry jumped off the page to me.
I almost didn't go to Ireland because of worry. A few months earlier I hurt my knee on the first evening of a trip to WA state. I wish I could say that I had climbed a mountain, biked a century, or sailed in the Puget Sound earlier that day. I had merely traveled by airplane and car, and sat and sat and sat.
It seems when we get older, all that sitting is not a good idea, at least for some of us. To cut to the chase, for almost two weeks I could not put any weight on my right foot without causing intense pain in my knee.
I wondered (okay, I also worried), whether I would be able to go on our planned trip to Ireland. What if I re-injured my knee while there?
I also prepared. I went to physical therapy, I dutifully performed my exercises five times each day at home, and my knee got more stable and my leg stronger.
I decided to go to Ireland. I wore the compression knee socks, as advised, and I was careful. I am so glad I didn't let worry keep me away from meeting fun people and enjoying green hills and dales, traditional Irish music in pubs, and welcome cool temperatures.
I am fully aware that there are levels of things to worry about. I do not have a life threatening illness, nor do my loved ones. We have shelter, and we are generally safe. Unlike the farmer who asked, "So why worry?" I do not have to work hard in tough conditions to grow enough food for my family.
I wonder if practicing "so why worry" during the easier times in life will help prepare me for the tougher times?
How do you practice "so why worry?"
