What I learned about worry from my dad

When I was young, I wanted to be just like my father. I was his mini-me. I ate stinky cheese, oyster stew and liver and onions. I loved archeology and went with him on amateur digs. I ran to keep up with his long legs as our family toured the museums of the world. I drank Turkish coffee

with him in a mountain village on Cyprus, and explored caves in Lebanon. I sat on the curb in front of my grandmother's house with him as he chatted with a childhood friend, a black man who my grandmother refused to allow on to the porch. I stood with him at the rim of the Grand Canyon. And he stood with me at my graduation and my wedding.

I still love adventures, traveling, studying ancient cultures, and oyster stew. But I inherited something else from my father that has had a much greater impact on me. The tendency to worry. There is no doubt that he was a world-class worrier. He told me one time that he was worried that if he wasn't worried, that something bad would happen, and I developed the same worry habit. Like Atlas carrying the world on his back, I assumed "control" over as much as I could by worrying about it. It is hard for me to fathom now how much tension this created (for me and those around me), and how it sapped my energy. Yet like many emotional habits we create at a young age, it was a way for me to feel "in control" over otherwise uncontrollable situations.

Over the years, my thirst for learning led me to numerous personal development and leadership courses, becoming a Reiki Master Teacher and a life and wellness coach. And somewhere along the way I stopped worrying, stopped trying to control situations by the sheer power of angst. How did this happen? Simple and not simple - I became aware, and learned to let go of things that were not mine to, well, worry about. That was the first step. The second has been to learn to trust in the Universe that all is as it should be. This one is harder and it can be easy to collapse into it. It requires balancing personal responsibility with "hakuna matata". Yet it's a dance that has created a huge amount of space and ease in my life, and made room for joy.

One of the last things that my dad said to me before he passed away just short of his 94th birthday, was that he wasn't worried about me or my brother anymore. He thought we would be just fine. I guess if he can do it, so can I,

I wish you the peace and joy of "no worries"

Myra Oney, RMT, CHHC

Myra is a holistic health coach and a Reiki Master Teacher. She is a graduate of the Institute for Integrative Nutrition and Intrinsic Coaching©, and a member of the American Association of Drugless Practitioners and the International Association of Reiki Professionals. She has been in practice for sixteen years. She teaches, lectures and sees private clients in Croton on Hudson, NY. Her passion is helping people attain their ultimate state of health and well-being by facilitating them in connecting with their true, essential self. www.dailylivingreiki.com