One of my favorite Stevie Wonder songs (among many) is, Don’t You Worry Bout a Thing, from his 1973 album, Innervisions. It’s easily the most playful and joyful song on a heavy, thought-provoking record decrying the injustices of the era.
Fifty years later, the song’s title does double-duty for me as a useful mantra and a much-needed reminder to chill out and let go when things get overwhelming.
Don’t you worry ’bout a thing…
It’s not flippancy, nor is it license to live in blissful ignorance, or to abdicate responsibility altogether. It’s actually an invitation to go out and explore, and live, and decide for yourself how you’ll show up:
Everybody needs a change
A chance to check out the new
But you’re the only one to see
The changes you take yourself through
Don’t you worry ’bout a thing
I like the song’s playful nature, probably because I can be quite the worrier. As a survivor, I fancy being able to see around corners and spot threats long before others can. It’s a strength. But trust me, hyper-vigilance is no day at the beach. It wears and tears at you; it’ll straight up give you a belly-ache.
That’s not to say worry is altogether bad. Deep down, it’s rooted in a biological imperative. Our worry is trying to keep us alive. It’s an alarm, a signal, a message about a threat (real or perceived) that needs our attention; and because we’re wired for it, it’s foolish to ignore or suppress it.
The problem, of course, is that there’s never been a shortage of things to worry about, not to mention that, today, there might actually be more reasons to worry. And, to make matters worse, our digital devices keep feeding us worrisome tidbits triggering our FOMO, or worse. This means that it’s easier to be a worrier, even if you’re only slightly so inclined. And if you’re a solopreneur or small business owner, then OMG, pour a gallon of risk and a liter of uncertainty into the mix.
Which is to say—it can get to be too damn much at times.
But worrying, as we all know, is weak sauce.
As Mark Twain once confessed:
I have known many sorrows, most of which never happened.”
We conjure up tragedies that haven’t happened and lament them as if they have. According to research professor, Brene Brown, “Worrying and anxiety go together, but worry is the thinking part of anxiety. Worry is described as a chain of negative thoughts about bad things that might happen in the future.” This chain of negative thoughts can shut us down (avoidance), or whip us into a frenzy of ill-conceived action (at least we’re doing something about it, right?). We under or overcompensate and in doing so we often make worry’s conjurings real.
So how do we stop fusing with worry?
What works for me, and might work for you, is to acknowledge the worry and accept that it’s there, that it’s not going anywhere, and that it’s ok. Worry is not an enemy, remember? It’s more like a busybody friend who loves you but has questionable judgement and a funny way of showing its appreciation. See worry in a different light, that’s step one.
Step two is what Professor Elizabeth Stanley taught me: the contact points exercise. It’s a variation of the “body scan” mindfulness practice that you might already be familiar with. If you contact Prof. Stanley, she’ll send you the exercise instructions. Or, you can also check out a simple grounding exercise here.
It turns out that these exercises work in reducing worry or anxiety because your survival brain (the worrier in you who’s panicking) cannot be fully engaged at the same time as your thinking brain. According to Prof. Stanley:
By directing your attention to the sensations of contact between your body and surroundings, your can show your survival brain that you’re grounded, stable, and safe.
It also helps to know that you can practice all this before worry gets bad. You can do it upon rising in the morning, or after a cardio workout, for example, as a way of rewiring your brain to maintain safety at all times and widen your window and improve your tolerance for stress.
Then and only then, once safety has been established, can we try to understand what the worry is trying to tell us and what we might be able to do about it.
For example:
- What’s the “problem” our worry seems to think we have? Where’s the opportunity or challenge in that “problem”? What fears or other negative emotions is it dredging up for us? Why do you think that is?
And…
- How might I take advantage of the opportunity to grow, or face the challenge that worry is pointing to? What productive action might I be able to take right now? What might I need to start doing? What might I need to stop doing?
Then, after thoughtful consideration, which you might even choose to record in a journal or notebook, take a few slow, deep breaths and get back to the joy of living, unburdened by worry.
Don’t you worry ‘bout a thing.
It all sounds so easy to do, but it isn’t. It takes practice to accept and commit to dealing with our worry in a productive way. It would be so much easier to be like Mr. Spock on Star Trek, a member of an alien race to whom worry is a nonexistent form of cognition and flat out “illogical.” But, whether we like it or not, to worry is to be human, let’s rejoice in that fact and move on.
I think music can help.
Enter the playful lyrics and Latin rhythms in Stevie Wonder’s song, which do not fail to make me smile.
In a heavy, soulful album, maybe Don’t You Worry ‘Bout a Thing was about an artist reconnecting with pure, unadulterated joy, if only for a single track.
It makes sense. Even in worrisome times there’s great beauty all around, and plenty of things to be thankful for. Practicing our ability to see them is the only way to stay sane in what often seems like an unjust and brutish world.
So this Thanksgiving, my friend, my hope is that you don’t worry about a single thing. I wish you joy!
To help us all connect with gladness, I made a Spotify playlist for you, of the songs that help me stop worrying and jump back to the sunny side of life. The tracks span languages, genres and generations but I hope they make you smile, and better yet, I hope they make you shake your groove thing.
Wishing you and your family the very best, always.