A few weeks ago, after many landlocked years, I stood upon a cold, empty, windy beach looking out at the vast expanse of ocean and sky. It was as if a heavy curtain had lifted—perhaps the “sensuous curtain” of which the idealist philosopher F. H. Bradley used to speak—for as I gazed at the unencumbered horizon, a burden of restless anxiety fell away. The thought came to me then that it is in our power, God willing, to replace fear with love, anxiety with joy, and busyness with service.
Such fleeting impressions aren’t much use if they are only interruptive. Was there a way to preserve it? I chanced to look down and notice a mottled blue-grey stone at my feet. It had a smooth indentation, much like the Neanderthal chopper in our curio cabinet at home, so that it fit perfectly into my hand. As I held the stone, I anchored it to the resolution (or better yet, petition) that filled my mind: replace fear with love, anxiety with joy, busyness with service. I’ve kept the stone as a talisman.
But here’s the puzzle: Should we be trying to overcome anxiety? As wise teachers have always recognized, ordinary anxiety is a rational response to life’s uncertainties, a side effect of the vigilance and forethought that set us apart from beasts, babies, and perhaps our hominid ancestors as well. It’s good to temper our anxiety, but there’s no use being anxious about it. We can be calm when we’re dead.
