I’ve had a lot of worries in my life, most of which never happened is both something Mark Twain said and a later edit that has, all of a sudden, got on top of everything below.

We listened to Madonna’s Music album in the car that was taking my friend and I somewhere we’d never been before. Yes, I’m a sucker for albums. And driving.

One thing lead to another and, there I was, dangling my feet off a wooden dangling bridge over a river. I didn’t worry for a single second about the slippers that could have fallen off my feet into the river at any moment. Sometimes, worrying is healthy — but I didn’t worry then, and because of that, I didn’t lose my slippers in the river. I simply lived. I felt. Still, I thank the universe for keeping my slippers on my feet. I admit, the thought of liking my classic dark blue Adidas slides must have crossed my mind. Thank you for not worrying back then — and here I am now, unable to stop saying thank you. The whole look was just too good. Add the men’s classic dark blue Adidas cotton shorts, the black bra top, a glass of white wine in my right hand and hair in the air. I mean…

Where were we?

Later on, I wore a red check, cinched at the waist short jumpsuit I feel a special way inside of, carried lavender in my right hand, instead of wine, while going down the stairs of a wooden kids’ house in a beautiful meadow.

Uhmm…

Here.

You know how English people almost always say No worries! as a reply to Thank you! or to Excuse me? My brother and one of my dearest girl friends live in the UK, so I got to spend quite a lot of time doing the extraordinary just as much as the ordinary there.

I’ve never heard it in my native language. Until recently, when my heart skipped a beat. It was said, in the most natural way, by someone I hadn’t met before — but I made sure I would, and I did. And we lived happily ever after. Wait, I’m kidding, but you know what? This is the drill.

We crossed paths when she slipped me her gentle No worries! at the restaurant, in response to my Sorry! after I had brushed past her like a flash. Instinctively, I turned toward her and smiled softly, straight into her eyes, for a fraction of a second. It felt like a moment cut out of reality — a moment that placed me right inside a fairytale. But then came another one.

The second time, this lady — again, so effortlessly — told me No worries! in response to my Thank you! for the coffee at seven in the morning. The sunlight was pouring in enchantingly, over hills and valleys, over soft, cozy clothes. The air was fresh, the smell of coffee filled the space. I smiled widely this time around and gently asked her if that No worries! was an expression from the region. That little phrase of hers.

She smiled and a bit shy, surprised, said I don’t think so or who knows. She told me she didn’t even realise she was saying it and we had a wonderful conversation over coffee, yes, the vibe.

Then, every time she would see me, she asked me What were the words I said?. With a not so shy anymore, still shy, but prouder now smile. Cute prouder. 

The third time, she was leaving work (the cottage we were staying at). I was writing on the porch outside. From afar, quite afar, she asked me, screaming, grinning, hehe: What were the words I was saying? I screamed back from the top of my lungs: Nooo worriiiieeees!

She smiled.

Enthusiastic.

I laughed.

Happy.

Man.

The moments.

That.

Make.

Us.

Feel.

Alive.

Had I not paid attention, that moment could have slipped by and this moment right now would have not existed. It was a usual thing for her. For me? The usual thing for me was to worry. Not the worrying in the typical, mot-à-mot way. But worrying somewhere in the back of my mind. Subtly and almost all of the time. I like knowing that everyone around me is well. That, ideally, everyone in the world is being kind to everyone. It’s the kind of world where great, magical moments are lived. Moments when I completely forget about worries — and the extraordinary happens. 

Worries are a way of activating the mind — and since we need our mind almost all the time, it would be amazing if it could stay free of worry most of the time. Activate when we need it, in calm and peace. A kind of utopia, perhaps, but we know that anything is possible. Extraordinary moments teach us about the impossible becoming possible.

Of course they do — extraordinary moments exist because of the ordinary ones, and vice versa. Because the moment we begin to feel, even to rejoice, is the moment you’d think I’d call extraordinary, but in fact, it’s actually an ordinary moment. One in which we feel at home. And only after feel the extraordinary. I feel it in my stomach as we speak.

Do you?

Pressure is good on special occasions. I bet I will enjoy, to some extent, worrying about my kids. I can’t wait for them to, one day, read this to their father and me, over toasting champagne, on a different kind of porch, on their arrival, in the morning, from a party or two, and for us, the parents, to give them the looks our parents used to give us when we used to come home in the morning, after dancing the whole night through. Saying the whole phrase in one breath may make you worry already. See? 

Growing up, my brother and I saw our parents partying till the morning light — the vibe, celebratory every time. They knew we knew and they still gave us the look. It’s a thing. My parents still dance until morning, and I hope we’ll do the same. I’m sure we will, because that’s what makes me feel at home.

Worries seem so real at times that you can’t help it. At other times, though, if you pay close attention, you’ll see that all you have to do is relax. Feel. Try to scream No worriiiieeees!, in a charming moment in time, while laughing, at someone, and you’ll see what I mean. It’s a feeling.

Some kind of worry, the worry you transform into pressure, the pressure you transform into drive is a good thing when you’re working, when you’re fulfilling your dreams, when you need to keep your eyes wide open in crucial situations. Does this mean life is an entire critical situation? Of course not, whooh! Life is flying. Worrying during a flight, however, has never made any sense to me. I’m not talking about that flight we all, at least once, have been and saw our lives flashing before our eyes on. It’s not like you can do anything about it. You’re supposed to just sit. You’re not only supposed to. It’s the only thing you can do while suspended in a gigantic piece of iron in the air. Not suspended, but flying at incomprehensible speed and altitude in the air, actually. Exactly like living is the only thing you can do while you’re stuck to this  gigantic planet. Spinning around its own axis and around the sun at incomprehensible speed. In incomprehensible space. Incomprehensible, but true. 

To live, to be present, and to send our mind on vacation every now and then. But let’s not confuse the absence of worry with inaction of any kind. Having the courage to start a conversation that matters is part of being a great, alive human.

PS: now good luck with the not worrying part!

The last P.S. to the P.S. I think. See? Think. I didn’t say I feel. So, hm… What I’ve come to understand is that life has a way of surprising you and is, in fact, interested in your truth, that no matter the worrying (I just took a deep breath), things are always working out, that people don’t change, they just become more of who they are which is great, because I’m becoming more of who I am and you’re becoming more of who you are, so yay to us! You can’t worry and love at the same time.

Whooh! I wrote it in bold to make sure you see it. It was important, no? Flying like there’s no tomorrow.