The Feel Good Way

There’s this quote from Eckhart Tolle’s book The Power of Now that I keep coming back to: The past doesn’t exist because it’s over. The future doesn’t exist because it’s just tomorrow’s now. Only the present exists.

Simple. True. And somehow, exactly what I needed to hear.

Because let’s be real: the world feels heavy right now. Wars, climate disasters, political chaos, economic uncertainty, just pick your poison. And if you’re anything like the people around me, you’ve probably found yourself spiraling into anxiety about it all. Refreshing the news at 11 PM, getting progressively more stressed about things happening on the other side of the planet. Things you have absolutely zero control over.

I used to be exactly like that. A full-blown news freak. I’d check the headlines first thing in the morning: I had about 5 news apps on my phone! Refresh during lunch. Scroll through updates before bed. As if somehow, by staying on top of every terrible thing happening everywhere, I was doing something useful.

Spoiler: I wasn’t. All I was doing was collecting anxiety like other people collect stamps.

Then COVID happened. And everything changed.

Suddenly, the news wasn’t just background noise anymore. It was everywhere. Non-stop. Relentless. Death tolls. Lockdowns. New variants. Conflicting advice. Panic. Fear. Every single day, a fresh wave of disaster delivered straight to my screen.

And I realized: this is insane. I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep absorbing every catastrophe like it’s my personal responsibility to carry the weight of the entire world’s problems.

So I stopped. Completely.

No more checking news sites. No more scrolling through headlines. No more push notifications about breaking disasters. I just… turned it all off.

And you know what happened? Absolutely nothing catastrophic.

Here’s what I discovered: if something is actually important, people talk about it. At work. At dinner. In casual conversation. Someone will mention it. And if it’s genuinely significant, everyone will mention it. You can’t escape it even if you try.

So now? I just let the news come to me through people. If something catches my attention -if it genuinely interests me or feels relevant- then I go look it up. I do some focused research. I read about it properly instead of just consuming panic-inducing headlines. And then? I sign off again.

I get what I need, and I leave the rest. No constant stream of doom. No anxiety-inducing updates about things I can’t control. Just the stuff that actually matters, filtered through real human conversations instead of algorithm-driven fear.

It’s brilliant, honestly.

But here’s what I’ve noticed since then: so many people around me are drowning in anxiety about what’s happening in the world. They’re stressed, overwhelmed, constantly worried about things they have zero influence over.

And I get it. I really do. It feels irresponsible to just… not actively follow the news. Like if you’re not paying attention to every crisis, you’re somehow failing as a human being.

But here’s the uncomfortable truth: we have no control over most of it. None.

You scrolling through news articles about a war in the Middle East doesn’t stop the war. Your panic about economic collapse doesn’t fix the economy. Your anxiety about climate change doesn’t personally reverse emissions. We have no influence. None. And pretending we do by obsessively consuming news is just a way to feel like we’re doing something when we’re actually doing nothing. Except making ourselves miserable.

My grandson is just over two years old. He just… exists. In the moment. Fully.

This weekend, we were outside, and he spotted a dandelion gone to seed, one of those perfect white puffballs. He’d just learned how to pick them and blow the seeds away, and he was absolutely delighted with himself. He carefully plucked it, took a deep breath, and blew. Seeds scattered everywhere. Then he turned to me, grinning, and handed me another one. So I did it too. Picked it. Blew. Watched the tiny parachutes drift away on the wind.

And for those few minutes, that’s all there was. The softness of the dandelion. The breeze. The pure joy on his face. It brought back something I’d almost forgotten : that feeling of simple wonder we all had once, before the world convinced us that everything had to be serious and heavy and important.

When did we lose that? When did we start believing that being a responsible adult meant constantly worrying about things we can’t control?

I have started noticing when I’m not present. When I’m spiraling into future-worry or past-regret. When the conversations around me are pulling me into anxiety about things I have no control over.

And when I catch myself doing it, I try to come back. To now.

Sometimes that means putting my phone down and going for a drive, top down, music loud, wind in my hair. Sometimes it means standing outside and watching a storm roll in, feeling that electric energy in the air. Sometimes it’s just sitting with my grandson and genuinely paying attention to whatever small miracle he’s discovered that day.

And most of the time? When you actually look at now -like, really look at it- it’s not that bad. The house is warm. The coffee is good. The people you love are (mostly) okay. The world outside your window is still turning, still beautiful in its own messy way.

The apocalypse you’ve been reading about? Not here. Not now.

The past is done. The future hasn’t happened yet. And obsessing over either one is like trying to hold onto smoke. The only thing that’s real -like, truly, solidly real- is this moment. This breath. This sentence. This life, unfolding right now.

So maybe try this: Next time you catch yourself spiraling into news-induced panic, ask yourself : do I actually need to know this right now? Will knowing it change anything? Will it make my life better?

If the answer is no? Let it go.

And if you’re worried you’ll miss something important? You won’t. Trust me. People talk. And the truly important stuff? It finds you anyway.

The world will keep doing its thing. But you? You only get this one moment. This one life.

Don’t waste it drowning in someone else’s disaster.

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Image is AI generated