After fifteen years of therapy and ten years of meditation and involvement in Zen Buddhism, here’s what feels colossally useless:  worrying.  

Of course I still do it.  Hopefully less.  I mean the worry about the past (folded in with guilt and regret) and the worry about the present, stage fright, grounded in, “Am I good enough?”  “Am I lovable?”  There is “Razor Lips” residing in my mind, who rears her ugly head and starts yapping with those razor sharp teeth.  She especially loves the tiny juicy buds of creativity which she’ll mow down without the slightest hesitation. 

Where once she thought she was protecting me, when I was a child, now she is an undiluted source of useless worrying and negativity.  I tell her to sit in the corner with a coloring book and leave me alone.  What I had habitually done to avoid worrying seems useless and self destructive as well, such as eating when I’m not hungry, or picking fights with my husband.  When I realize what I’m doing, I’ll take some deep breaths and talk to myself (as I’ve learned in yoga):  “Great love, no fear.  Everything is always here.”  

Ironically, what would appear to be a useless activity, just sitting doing nothing at all except breathing and emptying the mind, as in zazen/Zen Buddhist style meditation practice, is healing, restorative and energizing.  Coming to know myself.  Befriending myself.  Living as fully present as I am able.  Being in beingness.