‘Worrying does not take away tomorrow's troubles.
It takes away today's peace.’
–
Something a little different for you today.
This collection of words originally began life as a simple newsletter note, but quickly metamorphosed into the short but, hopefully, impactful piece below.
Enjoy.
The past few days have been populated with a series of important video calls.
How important? Let's put it this way: if these calls were to go well, a long-held dream of mine would finally materialise, transforming into a reality I never imagined to be possible.
Naturally, I was a little nervous. The majority of my days were underscored with the muted – yet chronic – hum of fight-or-flight mode, as I poured my energy into preparing for the calls: researching, rehearsing, researching again.
And then.
The day before one particular call, a new set of neighbours decided it was time to move into the apartment next door. And along with their flatpack furniture and duct-taped cardboard boxes, they brought the one thing that has disrupted many a meeting in 2020: noise.
So much noise.
Children shrieking, parents choosing to debate those all-important dinner plans in the space outside our front door, packers and movers swapping chai stall recommendations at a decibel level I would reserve only for emergencies (but, after all, we are in India – not knowing where your next chai is going to come from is widely accepted as an emergency).
Jokes aside, my instant, instinctive, reaction to the noise was one of pure panic.
What about that all-important call tomorrow? What if the chaos seeped into it, shattering my focus, destroying the peace I so desperately needed? There had to be a way to mitigate the risk, to ensure I could stop the grating disruption from making its home in our home.
This just wouldn't do, I felt. Nothing could go wrong. Circumstances had to be no less than perfect.
And so, I shared my concerns with my father, hoping he'd play along in the panic game. He didn't (and never does).
Instead, he delivered a much-needed wake-up call: ‘We can certainly speak to the neighbours and ask them to tone down the noise. But, ultimately, their actions will still be out of our control.’
Of course. As soon as I heard this, I came hurtling back to reality, to a key component of my approach to life: do not fret over that which is outside of your control.
And so, I made a conscious effort to rapidly shift my mindset. I needed to stop focussing on their behaviour and the noise they'd be making and, instead, focus on what I was able to control – my preparation, my attitude, and my performance on the call, notwithstanding any and all noise outside.
I couldn’t afford to fixate on their actions, because it would do nothing to change the situation – and everything to disrupt my focus.
What I did have to do, was to redirect every ounce of my energy towards the only important event in that moment: the call. So, that's what I did. I untangled myself from the knots of worry and began to simply focus.
So, after (almost) entirely extinguishing my panic with a healthy dose of Stoicism, how did the call actually go?
Pretty seamlessly. While there was some neighbour-shaped noise during the conversation, I only allowed it to bother me for a minute or two (of course, I haven’t perfected my technique yet). And that’s because I was simply, completely, immersed in the call – focussing on nothing but the person I was speaking to, my thoughts, and my words. I’d tuned out all the noise.
And so, as it turns out, what I had (unnecessarily) tied myself up in knots about was nowhere near as devastating as I'd feared. In fact, it wasn't devastating at all.
Somehow, it all just worked itself out.
Upon reflection, there were also many other variables that could have gone pear-shaped, that could have disrupted the call. Incessantly dwelling on the prospect that they may happen could have temporarily appeased me, offering me a false sense of hope – the hope that I'd be controlling the situation by worrying about it in advance.
But, of course, worrying doesn’t influence whether events, actions, and decisions outside of our control will occur in our favour or not. So, why do we do it?
My experience this week also brings me back – as life often does – to Michel de Montaigne's timeless quote:
"My life has been filled with terrible misfortune; most of which never happened."
And with that, I leave you with one simple reminder: Preserve your energy for what you can control, and discover peace (and energy) in leaving the rest aside.
Until next time,
S
Cover image captured by Erol Ahmed for Unsplash.
