On one of the many mornings that I thought staying in the fetal position under warm covers and hovering in a semi-dream state might mitigate my anxiety, these words announced themselves:

Too complicated to control

Yep, that’s it, I realized, as all my muscles tightened, afraid to try the day. That describes the scary situations that keep me breathing shallowly, darting from one thing to another, muffling the scream, saying (sometimes out loud), “I can’t do this.”

Too complicated to control. Life. Life is too complicated to control. Oh, now it sounds like a truth instead of a problem.

Life is too complicated to control. So why is Claudia a nervous wreck because Claudia can’t control Life?

This pretty much solves it, doesn’t it?

I recently discovered this Zen story:

One day Mara, the Evil One, was walking through the villages of India with his attendants. They saw a man doing walking meditation whose face lit up with wonder after discovering something on the ground in front of him. One attendant asked what that was. Mara replied, “A piece of truth.”

“Doesn’t it bother you when someone finds a piece of truth, O Evil One?” asked the attendant. “No,” Mara replied. “Right after this, they usually make a belief out of it.”

Life is too complicated to control. Good insight. A truth. One truth. One piece. As true as my human tendency will be to slip back into familiar, anxious grooves in my future complicated life.

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