We seem to be some part of the punch line to a cruel joke. To consciously navigate this
existence with the desire for safety, triumph, calmness, and certainty hardwired into us,
all while being stricken to a chaotic world, fragile body, and mysterious, fluctuating,
indifferent universe. There are, has been, and will continue to
forever be things to worry about as long as this dichotomy exists. Which will likely be
as long as human is human. There is no shortage of reasons to worry.
And there is no shortage of causes for assuming those reasons, even when one does not have
to. At least not yet. How absurd it would be to not, at least some of the time, feel
worried by the absurdity of everything. But of course, after a point, worrying about the
future and the unknown and the potential of things going wrong, is nothing but a useless
handicap. We mostly all know that over worrying can
sometimes be just as much of a problem as not worrying at all. But this balance, like
most balances, is complex. How much concern for the future is enough? And how much is
not? And how does one find out and reconcile this balance without worsening the whole problem?
One philosophy in particular that focuses a good portion of its attention on addressing
the problem of worry is the philosophy of Stoicism; an enduring, nearly universal school
of philosophy originally founded in Ancient Greece and then further popularized in Ancient
Rome. Generally, a key principle of Stoicism is understanding that the only thing we can
truly control in life is our internal domain; our interpretations, reactions, and personal
decisions. And everything else—the external reactions to our actions, other people, and
the happenings of the world and universe at large—are things we cannot. This is worth
noting because regarding the issue of worrying, Stoicism suggests that one should try to maintain
the following balance: an awareness that the things we are concerned about could and very
likely might happen—that life will contain moments of tragedy and sharp turns—and that
we should be prepared for these moments, both mentally and practically, in any way we can.
However, equally important is recognizing that many of these sorts of catastrophic moments
can’t be known nor controlled nor predicted, and thus, after a point, worrying has none.
Once one has done everything that is rationally and realistically preventative, they should
work to revert their attention back to the present, leaving all additional concern about
the future, for the future. Awareness and rational preparation have value
to the future at low cost to the present. But worrying about what one cannot know nor
control of the future has no value to either and comes at the cost of the present.
Following the Stoic way of thinking, to potentially help counter this unnecessary anxiety and
bring our attention and enjoyment back to the present, we can remind ourselves that
in the future, things might not be ok, but if they might not be, then they are now. Or
at least better than the future version we are worried about. If we are worried that
things will only get worse, then things are as good as they’ll ever be right now. And
how foolish it would be to ruin what might be ok now out of concern of things potentially
not being so later, if one cannot know nor do anything further to prevent it? And better
yet, if one is wrong about what they’re fearful of, then things will only get better.
And there is even less reason to worry. Moreover, we tend to assume the worst. We
tend to worry not only about things going wrong, but the worst cases of things going
wrong, paired with a sense that in the face of such cases, we would be broken and ruined
beyond repair. However, how often is this actually true? Stoic Philosopher Seneca wrote,
“We are more often frightened than hurt; and we suffer more from imagination than from
reality.” Epictetus similarly wrote, “Man is not worried by real problems so much as
by his imagined anxieties about real problems.” In all likeliness, there is someone somewhere
right now living some version of a seemingly worst-case scenario for many of us, living
with no phone, computer, TV, and a great many other things, unaware of this video and perhaps
a huge portion of the happenings of the world. And he or she is likely just as happy or unhappy
as many of us right now. We are adaptable creatures, wired to adjust
our worries to our circumstances, as well as our abilities to remain ok in the face
of them. And it is perhaps of great use to consider and meditate on this idea frequently
and with confidents. That even if it went some version of nearly worst-case, we would
likely still be some form of ok. The ingredients of your being that have gotten you where you
are, that have given you what you’ve experienced, will still remain. To paraphrase Roman statesman
and philosopher Cicero, while one still breathes, one still has hope. At least in some form.
In no way is this to make light of the pain of enduring and recovering from hardships
in life. There is a spectrum of human horrors, some far worse and more trying than others.
In some cases, it is entirely improbable to recover in the true sense of the term. But
even if this is true, and one is worried about these sorts of unrecoverable things happening,
then again, they haven’t happened yet. In truth, how many things have we been worried
about in the past that haven’t crossed our mind since? Individually and collectively?
And what have we never worried about before that we are unfathomably worried about right
now? How often has time erected or eroded our worries in new, but equal form? How often
has the world ended, but hasn’t? How often has everything collapsed, but hasn’t? How
often has everything gone worst case, but hasn’t? This does not mean that the latter
two never have nor don’t, or that the former couldn’t, but proportionally, it’s rarely
worth the bet. French Renaissance philosopher and writer Michel de Montaigne wrote, “My
life has been full of terrible misfortunes most of which never happened.”
Arguably, many of us know all of this. At least in some form or another. In general,
we likely have, or could, logically conclude that worrying about what hasn’t happened
or what we can’t do anything about only adds or creates unnecessary suffering. But
yet, most of us keep worrying. Like with most difficult things, there are paradoxes and
ironies found in trying to implement these sorts of simple seeming ideas of resolution.
To try to resolve one’s excessive worrying requires one being worried about their worrying.
At least to an extent. One can’t use worry against worry to eliminate it. And so, realistically,
despite the Stoic ideas being so obvious and perhaps simple, in practice, we will perhaps
always remain trapped in some amount of unnecessary worry, inextricably linked with the human
condition. And consequently, perhaps our goal should be reducing unnecessary worry, rather
than removing it entirely. And perhaps by accepting this—that one will always feel
unease and that it is a natural part of the tragic backstory of human life—paradoxically,
one might worry a little less about worrying as a whole. If we shouldn’t distress over
what we can’t change or control outside of ourselves, perhaps at a point, we shouldn’t
distress about what we can’t control inside of ourselves either.
Of course, all we can do is try our best, and try our best to not worry about whether
or not out best resolves the impossible. Because in truth, there is likely no heroic, ultimate
defeat of worry. Only small, mini victories, moment to moment, along the way.
Ultimately, we are not special in our sufferings nor in our overcoming of them, individually
and collectively. Human history is carved through trenches. We dip in and out of oscillating
hardships, founded or unfounded. We are plagued by plagues and hatred and conflict and mortal
fragility. But if we are fortunate enough to worry about something that is potentially
not survivable happening to us, as opposed to trying to survive something that already
has, it is perhaps worth trying to be ok
while we still are.