Why Not Find A Better Job Than Worry? A Collaboration.

“Now that it is clear that all of my worry

proved so wasteful,  I decided

to look for another job.

there was no money in it, 

no security at all, not much

in the way of love or happiness,

either.

Worry didn’t make me rich,

or handsome. Or give me peace of mind.

Or stop me from being stupid.

It didn’t keep the hair on the top of my head,

or bring me a heart that didn’t need

repair, 

or the friends I hoped to have,

 or  life in a place

I wanted to be.

It didn’t keep me young,

or making love; 

I had to wear glasses,

and put drops into my eyes,

and inserts into my shoes,

and take 10 different kinds of pills.

I had an idea one day.

Why Not Find A Better Job Than Worry?

So I applied for a different job, I looked for it online,

it was called: Why Not Worry Less?

And I got the job, they said it was a perfect fit,

and I quit the Full-Time Worry Job, I gave 

no notice, and started right away,

to worry less;

my new job has lots of benefits,

and is secure; I am my own boss,

and the only one

who can fire me

is me,

and I am pretty rich now

in many ways, and happy with me,

and safer, and in love, and I have a blog,

and am even

taking a good photo once in a while.

I still have no hair on the top of my head, 

this job is not lucrative either,

but I don’t worry about it much.

I have everything I wanted,

and everything I need.

So I have a new question for me,

and for you:

Now that all your worry has brought us

nothing, why not find a better job than worry?

– By Jon Katz And  His Rescue Angel

 

The Story Of This Poem:

This poem is a collaboration.

My Rescue Angel –  only $5, no paperwork, no inspection of my fences, or self-righteous questions – is in the barn where Maria placed her. She can look out the window.

I have this feeling she will be moving around. This afternoon, she was in a hole in the apple tree. We are building a new relationship. She does speak to me.

As I walked out to scrape the leaves out of the water tub, she sort of hissed at me (she is not one of those sappy angels). “Hey,” she said, since all of your worrying in life has proved pointless and fruitless, here’s an idea: why not get a better job?”

This somewhat snide but revealing comment went off like a firecracker in my head, rattling around until it became a poem, I guess the first gift from my Rescue Angel.

Bud and Fate looked up at me curiously, either hoping for a treat or excited at this idea. Dogs can hear angels, I think, why Hell, some dogs are angels.

Sure enough, she was right, there was a poem in there, my first poem in months.