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It is a tiny nuisance microchip implanted deep within the hidden recesses of my brain.
From time to time, a piece of truth pops up that is so abundantly true that it demands attention.
Ours is a time of anxiety because we have wiled it to be so. Our anxiety is not imposed on us by force form outside. We impose it on our world and upon one another from within ourselves.
Worry comes when I fail to stay still in the present moment.
I come from a long line of worriers. Anxiety is hard-wired into the synapses of my brain.
I am an anxious person.
All people carry an energy transmission of life or death.
It is a curious little incident sandwiched between Jesus’ miraculous feeding of a huge crowd and his lengthy discourse on the nature of true bread.
It is my daughter’s wedding. Due to the anticipated crowd, the service is being held downtown in a church with which I am unfamiliar. I am fulfilling the dual functions of father of the bride and priest officiating at the service.
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I am an anxious person. I have always been an anxious person. I come by my anxiety naturally. It is a family inheritance bequeathed to me by my anxious mother.
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In A Spacious Place 