For the last week or more I’ve been go, go, going. Granted, you wouldn’t have known it had you been watching. What I mean is that I’ve been filling my days up with reading, turning one page after another. And whereas this may sound like a leisurely activity, it’s not for me. Because more than simply reading, I’ve been studying, learning, trying to cram as much knowledge into my brain as I can. And whereas I love all of this, it’s still work. Plus, the pressure I put on myself to do more, learn more is exhausting. Tonight I signed up for a free video streaming service (Kanopy) through my library and flagged 7 documentary series (each with about 24 episodes) that I’d like to, think I should, watch. But ugh. Who has time for all this information?

Seriously, it’s overwhelming.

In order to deal with this overwhelm, I did something today I rarely do–I spent the entire day with friends. First, my friends Aaron and Kate and their son and I went to lunch, then we came to where I’m house sitting so we could swim. Then our friends Justin and Ashley joined us. Then Aaron and Kate and their son left, and Justin and Ashley and I went to dinner. Anyway, it was the perfect thing. Being with friends. Soaking up some sun. Not being so damn serious for a change.

Balance.

At one point today I was playing with Aaron and Kate’s son in the pool, and–just like that–he slipped off his floaty and went under water. Sometimes life happens so fast. Well, just as quickly, I snatched him up with both hands. For a moment, he didn’t respond. Water was dripping off his face, but you could have heard a pin drop. Just for an instant. And then the response came–tears. Then coughing. Talk about overwhelming. For a while, Kate held him. Then Aaron held him. Then the two of them were back in the water, the boy laughing again, insisting on getting back on his floaty.

This evening I’ve thought a lot about this. Things happen in the blink of a an eye. In the last two years–just like that–I was rear-ended, I tore my ACL. Oddly enough these experiences weren’t scary. They just happened, and then they were over. Conversely, earlier this week I accidentally ran a red light and didn’t realize it until I was in the middle of the intersection. No one pulled out or even came close to hitting me–everyone just sat there–but my heart jumped up to my throat. My point is that so often it’s not the actual things that happen in our lives that scare us, but the things we imagine will happen, or imagine could have happened, that do. I can’t speak for my young friend, but I know that’s what scared me today about his going under water–after the fact I thought, That could have really been bad.

I say after the fact because in the moment, thankfully, I was present. One minute we were playing around, he was on the floaty, and the next minute he slipped under. I could see his body submerged in water, I knew he couldn’t swim, and I immediately reached for him. Byron Katie says that our bodies are full of wisdom. For example, you accidentally touch a hot stove, and your hand automatically moves away from the heat. You don’t have to think, The stove’s hot, I should move my hand. It just happens. That’s what snatching my young friend out of the water was like. Automatic. I didn’t have to think or worry about how to do it.

My point in all this is twofold. First, it’s that in the moment we’re always taken care of and we always know what to do. Granted, when I’m in the midst of worrying about my finances and not sure about what book to read next, it doesn’t always feel like this. But what’s the truth? I’m sitting in a chair and am reading the book I’m reading, so I do know what to do. The boy is under water, and he can’t swim–snatch him up. Reality isn’t complicated. Secondly, our fears are never about what’s happening right here, right now. Rather, they’re always about what could have happened, what might happen next. Byron Katie says, “If you want fear and terror on purpose, get a future.” That is, imagine what will occur even a millisecond from now. You can really scare yourself. But right here, right now? Things are always better than we think they are.