I’ve been thinking about the ritual of the necklaces—how I explain the act of wearing it. That part matters. It’s not just symbolic. It’s the music, the book, the object in the physical world.
You have to feel it.
The anchor creates this sensation of being bound to responsibility. And today, my responsibility is simple: import video footage. But when I went to do that, I noticed something—I felt anxious just picking up my computer. That computer holds a lot. It was built for video editing, but it also carries my business, all my Volunteer work. That’s been a heavy chapter. There’s energy there. Tension.
I’m still learning from the Worry Net. I kind of became an official member of this imaginary “Worry Net cult” after my motorcycle accident. Before that, it was more of a joke—a stage bit. I’d wear it and say, “If you’re worried about money, put it in the net and give me all your money.” I even started a comic about it.
But I wasn’t actually practicing it. Not daily. After the accident, everything changed. I was badly injured—an open-book pelvic fracture. Eight days in the hospital. Months in bed. It forced me to slow down in a way I never had. One of the only things I could do was draw. When I finally started walking again, my wife took me to the used book store. I picked up some art books and started relearning how to draw—for what feels like the millionth time.
But this time it was different.
There was intention.
There was survival in it. I had this goal… and I remember having a really clear insight about it—something that felt important—but I lost the exact words. I just remember the feeling of clarity. That happens sometimes.
The Worry Net is still teaching me. I have this sense of weight—like an anvil—and at the same time, this spark. Something alive. Creative energy moving through me. Enough to make me pick up my phone and talk, which I don’t usually do. So here I am. Today’s goal is still simple: import the footage. And maybe notice what comes up when I try.
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