If we grow a lettuce, but it doesn’t do so well, we don’t blame the lettuce. We look to see why it’s not doing so well – maybe we water it, or compost it, give it more or less light, shield it from pests. But whatever we do, we don’t blame the lettuce.
I am. A bit. Not a lot, but a bit. And certainly not as much as I used to be.
I think it’s natural to worry isn’t it – I mean, normal. Everyone does it.
But some people worry a lot.
They worry about whether they are good enough, successful enough, nice enough, fair enough, kind enough, tough enough, and just about every other ‘enough’ it’s possible to imagine. They worry about failing, succeeding, leaving, joining, promoting, demoting, and having vacations. They worry about children, parents, brothers, sisters, and those more distant relations they should do more to stay in touch with. They worry about money, and health, and relationships, and blocked drains and buildings insurance. They worry about staff issues, budget constraints, health and safety, teaching standards and all sorts of other elements that will, at various times, play on your mind.
I don’t know about you, but when I fly I tend to be a bot blasé about the regulation on-board ‘safety briefing’.
I recall getting aboard an Air Caribbean flight some years ago, and being really focused on the hostess as she pointed out which doors we were to leap from in case of emergency. After seeing the dilapidated condition of the aircraft as I’d walked from the bus to board, and noticing fluid dripping from the overhead space two seats in front of me, I felt I had good reason to pay attention.
But seated in a spacious Boeing 787 Dreamliner, with mood lighting and four feet of headspace, my mind drifted as the animated characters on my personal video screen demonstrated the various aspects of passenger safety in front of me.