Worry became pointless after I saw this.

My hiking buddy said something that broke me out of my trance.

I stopped and squeezed fruit puree into my mouth.

The autumnal orange shrubbery had the Polish Tatras mountain sides looking like rust.

We were walking downhill over stones and boulders arranged into a path.

She said, ‘What I like about this is that you only focus on the next stone.

How true.

It is why it is so energising to walk in the hills.

When total focus is required so you don't miss a stone and sprain an ankle, you’re forced to be in the moment.

There's no time to spiral into worry. Nothing but peace here.

But you don't need mountains to access this state.

The clarity and energy you feel on that trail isn't coming from the hiking.

It's what emerges in the absence of worried thinking.

When your mind is fully present, you're not entertaining thoughts about tomorrow's meeting or last week's mistake.

I've become better at this over the years. It's why I no longer experience the anxiety and long bouts of sadness that once plagued me.

I still worry, but it's short-lived.

Rumination is rare.

I no longer see worry as useful. I understand how the mind works, and when you see the pointlessness of worry, you just stop doing it as much.

The biggest difference was that my understanding changed.

Most people try to fix this through tactics - breathing exercises, journaling prompts, positive affirmations.

These help temporarily, then fade.

What actually works is shifting your understanding of where stress comes from.

When you see that your thoughts create your stress (not your circumstances), everything changes.

The patterns lose their grip automatically.

It becomes much easier to focus on the next stone.

This is exactly what Untethered Mind mini-course teaches.

It’s not about tactics to remember, but absorbing a simple understanding of how your mind works that makes presence natural instead of forced.

You'll reduce your stress by 90% in days, not months.

Alex

Me in the Tatras mountains, Poland this last weekend. I’ve lost my sheep.