I Worried
by Mary Oliver
I worried a lot. Will the garden grow, will the rivers
flow in the right direction, will the earth turn
as it was taught, and if not how shall
I correct it?
Was I right, was I wrong, will I be forgiven,
can I do better?
Will I ever be able to sing, even the sparrows
can do it and I am, well,
hopeless.
Is my eyesight fading or am I just imagining it,
am I going to get rheumatism,
lockjaw, dementia?
Finally I saw that worrying had come to nothing.
And gave it up. And took my old body
and went out into the morning,
and sang.
I never used to think of myself as an anxious person. Perhaps I was less self aware in my younger years or maybe I just had fewer things to worry about. Over the last year I’ve become acutely aware of how often I respond to situations with fear and anxiety instead of interest and excitement. Somewhere along the way I started telling myself that I was an anxious person and my amygdala obliged me with a steady stream of worry.
Anxiety is a useful emotion. My anxiety motivates and protects me. But it’s also become a crutch, giving me the illusion of safety and control. If I worry enough about a situation, if I turn it over and over in my mind until I’m sure I’ve found every obstacle and outcome, then I’m safe. If I’m expecting it, I can’t be hurt. If I don’t make mistakes, I can’t be judged. If I’m always prepared, I won’t fail.
This way of thinking is both exhausting and laughably false. Life is entropic. It’s unpredictable and chaotic. It’s full of unexpected moments, both good and bad. A certain level of awareness and preparation will of course serve me well, but I’ve stopped nurturing the idea that I can worry myself to safety - that I can skip over the discomfort, judgement, or failure that’s part of being alive. As Hayley Nahmen puts it - “delusionally believing I can avoid mistakes if I just try hard enough”.
A few weeks ago I was taking my daily afternoon serotonin walk, thinking to myself that I was having a particularly nice day and feeling quite happy with life. I found it interesting - I hadn’t spoken to or seen anyone that day, hadn’t done anything out of the ordinary or even of note, and yet here I was feeling a strong sense of joy and contentment. What a powerful feeling, to realize I could create a great time for myself, all on my own, all in my mind.
The realization shocked through me. Every experience, every emotion, is something I’m creating. It’s easy to blame things on outside stimuli - that person annoyed me, that comment upset me, that situation pleased me - but no matter what happens externally, we ultimately filter it through ourselves and decide how to experience it.
David Foster Wallace says, in This Is Water - “Everything in my own immediate experience supports my deep belief that I am the absolute center of the universe, the realest, most vivid and important person in existence...Think about it: there is no experience you have had that you are not the absolute centre of. The world as you experience it is there in front of YOU or behind YOU, to the left or right of YOU, on YOUR TV or YOUR monitor.”
This line is meant to be cautionary, warning us of the ease with which we center ourselves and disregard the experience of others. But it is inherently true of our ordeal as humans. We are always at the center of our own experiences - there is no other way to interact with the world except through our own perception and processing. We create our own reality.
By telling myself I was an anxious person I was conditioning myself to respond with fear and worry. I was creating those emotions all on my own and then feeling powerless against them, assuming it must be my default way of being. Something inherent in my personality that couldn’t be changed or adapted.
Lately I’ve actively tried to choose the experiences I want to be having. I’ve started to ask myself if it’s doing me any good when the anxiety starts to kick up. I’ve asked myself how I’d rather feel or the kind of day I’d rather have. It’s something I’ll have to do, too, when I inevitably encounter times of pain or judgement or failure. Those things cannot be avoided, despite my best, most tireless efforts, but I can decide how to meet them when they come along.
It is, like anything worth doing, a practice and a challenge. Something I’m a novice at, but getting better all the time.
My husband and I were coming back from a little overnight getaway to McMinnville a few Sundays ago. As we were cruising through the hills of the Willamette Valley, heading back to Portland, he said he was surprised that I wasn’t feeling more anxious about teaching my first class the next day (more on that below!). I laughed - “So am I.”
Pacific Northwest College of Art
I recently joined PNCA as a part time adjunct professor in the illustration department. I’m teaching a sophomore level class called Word & Image and it’s been so fun so far.
There’s a line from the latest Courtney Barnett album - “What you put in the ground comes around when you don’t even know what you’re missing at all.”
I spoke to the folks at PNCA about teaching a few years ago, but it ultimately didn’t feel like the right time. Since then the idea of teaching has stuck in my mind. I recently wondered aloud to my husband if I’d made a mistake by passing up the initial opportunity, if I’d said no when I should have yes. A few weeks later the universe, as its wont to do, opened another door for me.
I love being back in the art school setting and seeing it all through my students’ eyes. It’s given me a renewed appreciation for illustration and the artwork I get to make for both myself and my clients. It’s also deepened my appreciation of Portland and the communities I’ve become a part of during my time here.
I’m excited to see what the rest of the semester brings - go Sloths!
Willamette Week
Last month I illustrated the cover for Portland’s own alt-weekly - Willamette Week. I remember grabbing a copy of WW on my first ever visit to Portland, way back in 2016 and thinking how cool it’d be to illustrate for them one day.
I woke up early the Wednesday it was published to check it out. The feeling of seeing it in the newspaper boxes around town will definitely stick in mind and heart for a good while. It took longer to settle into a new city than I expected (I’m coming up on 5 years here soon!) but projects like this really make me feel like a part of PDX 💚
Big thanks to Brian Breneman.
Real Simple
Real Simple consistently has great illustration in their issues and I’m thankful to be included in that from time to time. I illustrated this feature in the December 2021 issue to accompany a personal essay by author Maggie Shipstead.
She writes about deciding to adopt her foster dog, a big critter in need of lots of patience and attention. It’s a sweet and thoughtful piece about starting a new journey and venturing into the unknown.
Thank you Emily Kehe for the assignment.
Parting Words
“What art is all about is trying to figure out if the feelings that you’re having are the same as the feelings that I’m having.”
Chris Ware
Reading
Convenience Store Woman by Sayaka Murataz
Everything Was Forever, Until It Was No More by Alexei Yurchak
House of Cards: How decades of problems converged the night Champlain Towers fell
Watching
Somebody Somewhere (HBO)
The Power of the Dog (Netflix)
So many things you said about anxiety ring true for me too. Thank you for these thoughtful musings, and congrats on the gorgeous illustration projects!
Great post!! Glad you are doing better and congrats on PNCA!! I discovered your art years ago in a publication for Urban Outfitters and had been following you since then! Keep it up 👊