"We're talking about the present," the social worker says but she can't fool me. The present is just fine, entirely capable of caring for itself. It is the future she has brought to frighten me, the future they mean to cast me into willy-nilly, with neither love nor grace. I know she'll want my daughter to assume responsibility for me, but I am reluctant to consume my daughter's life.
"Don't sell the house," I tell Andrea after the woman leaves.
"We have to. We need the money for the nursing home."
"If I don't go, then we don't need the money."
Linda McCullough Moore, "On My Way Now", The Sun, April, 2014, pp.18-19
Indeed, the present is entirely capable of taking care of itself. It is what it is as the Buddhists say. Jesus says, "Don't worry about tomorrow until tomorrow. Don't you have enough to worry about today?" And I say to myself, "Yes, indeed. Today is enough for any person, why be greedy?"
As Seneca writes in his ninth letter quoting of Stilbo "Any man," he says, "who does not think that what he has is more than ample, is an unhappy man, even if he is master of the whole world."
And Seneca goes on to write, "What difference does it make, after all, what your position in life is if you dislike it yourself?"
Seneca ends this ninth letter writing, "Only the wise man is content with what is his. All foolishness suffers the burden of dissatisfaction with itself."
As Bobby McFerrin sang, Don't Worry, Be Happy"