We got up early to do our chores. Maria was going to have her weekly breakfast with two friends – the three all have businesses and they support one another in a way I rarely see men do. Before 7, Red was at the gate waiting for me, Maria was at the feeder, the sheep were coming to her, the donkeys waiting for me, I think, and the sun burst over the feeder. I had a surge of panic – in my chest, thinking about money and taxes – and I finished the chores, said goodbye to Maria and meditated. I am telling myself a different story these days in meditation: not what is wrong, but what is right, not what I am afraid of, but what I am not, not what bad things might happen, but what good things might happen.

For years, I could not turn the panic away, not stop or slow or alter it. It ran me, I reacted to it. That is changing. Today I replaced the old story – trouble is coming, I can’t handle it – with a different story. I can handle what comes, I have creative and meaningful things to do, I am strong and resilient. And the panic was replaced, and a new chapter idea for my Simon book came into my head, and I am about to go to work on it. Panic replaced. New stories for a story-teller. I am listening to a self-hypnosis tape about sleep and calm. I like it. We are the stories of our lives. We can change the stories of our lives, if we are willing to face the truth and do the work. I see it every day. I do it every day.