Worrying Makes It Better, Right?

Yesterday, 32 baby chicks arrived at the post office with my name and address attached. I love baby chicks. Sometimes we order an assortment of breeds, which allows us ample opportunity to speculate as to what breeds we have while enjoying their different colorings and personalities. This particular assortment is called the Rainbow Layers collection. That means I get a smidgen of everything from seven pound brown egg laying giants to four pound floofy-headed princesses, all hens — we think.

Apparently that also means I have to separate out the little princesses who need their frequent naps so the big bullies won’t trample them. Ugh! That wasn’t in the manual. Now I have three dead chickies (one of which arrived like that–it happens) twenty one bruisers toasting their tootsies in the “planned for” chickie condo, and eight little princesses getting royal treatment in somewhat cramped quarters INSIDE the Wellness Center. Those little princesses cost me about $40 extra in un-planned-for equipment.

And so yesterday afternoon was spent babysitting chickie-princesses. I made sure they had occasional drinks of water by dipping their little beaks in it throughout the afternoon. I watched their breathing. I tested the warmth of the heat lamp to make sure I wasn’t toasting chickie squab for dinner. Basically, I fretted over these two- and three-dollar fluffballs of downy feathers and tiny bones.

And then I went home.

And then I began to worry.

What if the lamp is too hot and they can’t escape the heat? What if I show up this morning and they are all dead? What if one of the little geniuses decides to fall asleep in the make-shift waterer and drowns herself? What if that heat lamp catches the wellness center on fire? And on and on and on.

And then I said to myself, “Stop it.” I was working myself into a tizzy of stress over things that are more or less out of my control. I was giving my attention and energy to all the horrible things that COULD happen rather than thinking about how they are toasty warm little princesses that get to nap in peace and strengthen their little bodies without being trampled by the massive masses. Wouldn’t my time be better spent thinking about how cool it is that I have a space to give them respite and the resources to buy or invent the needed supplies and equipment? It’s called law of attraction, but it’s also called Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount in the Bible.

Worry = Fear = Opposite of Peace & Love = Stress.

The cure for worry = peace & love.

So why do we do this to ourselves? Why do allow our minds to think the worst when the worst hasn’t happened? And if the worst does happen, what did our worrying about it do to keep it from happening? NOTHING. It zaps our energies, negatively affects our health and wellness, and doesn’t change the outcome one bit. Or does it? What if worrying and the mind-racing scenarios of horror we invent actually contribute to the manifestation of that which we most fear?

Fortunately God’s cool universe doesn’t operate quite that fast. We have plenty of time to think the worrisome thought, recognize it as not what we desire, and then change that thought to one that supports and encourages our desires. After all, that which we fear, which is usually some sort of death or tragedy, cannot be made any less likely to happen by worrying about it. Instead, why not send visions and thoughts of blessings, success, safety, and life, instead? ¬†Sounds like a much better plan to me.

Okay, little princess chickies. I’m sending you the energies of strength, light, perfect warmth, and full little tummies (or in this case “crop” –pronounced like “craw”) so that when I greet you later this morning, I am pleasantly surprised at how you are thriving. If by chance one or more of you has chosen not to remain here to be a part of our little farm, then so be it. Maybe I’ll catch you next time around, but I am NOT gonna worry about it. Blessings my little ones.

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