What the world needs now

Now that the election is over, I am searching for serenity. Walking or riding a bike in Cape Henlopen State Park whether on a trail or on the beach is one strategy that works. 
 
I look for a 2-inch pebble to hold in my hand and flip it over and over again in my palm while gazing out at the ocean, which is tumultuous, much like politics and family gatherings. I finger the smooth stone for almost an hour, and slowly I begin to breathe normally. 
 
For some reason, I thought that once I retired I would become less anxious. I blame it all on my mother. Worry was on her to-do list just like dusting the coffee table, mailing birthday cards and returning overdue library books. 
 
The first time I sought counseling for my anxiety was in 1990, when my sister was going through a divorce. I told this nice therapist that I wanted to be a calm, laid-back person, an easygoing kind of gal. 
 
She looked at me and in the kindest voice possible said, "I am sorry to be the one to tell you this, but you can't change your personality." Why not? I wanted to scream. "We can't do this here," she patted my hand. 
 
A walk on the beach is the best therapy. Looking at the patterns in the sand caused by wind or currents. Getting close enough to a jellyfish that has washed ashore to examine its tentacles. Listening to the gulls and the crashing surf. Finding shells and sea glass and children's little toy men. 
 
Toy men. I am reminded of another strategy to deal with stress: Plan a weekend of fun with friends. Once while vacationing in Del Ray, Fla., with three girlfriends, I found a little toy man, actually a long-legged rubber man, on the seashore and lovingly presented it to JoAnn. (She didn't have a boyfriend.) 
 
An entire year lapsed, and I was surprised to receive that disgusting thing as a birthday present from Linda. Of course the next time we got together, I snuck him into someone else's' suitcase. Now it's an elaborate ruse to hide 'the man' every time we get together. 
 
This has been going on for over eight years now, but we are getting so old, none of us can recall who has the man. "I gave him to you last Christmas." "No, he was in Nancy's suitcase that time we went to D.C., remember?" 
 
The best therapy for anxiety is to remember that no matter what problem looms on the horizon, you have a choice in how you respond to it. Like avoiding social media. 
 
When another family member of mine was in crisis years ago, my therapist suggested I use his strategy - visualization. He said, "You are standing on a large rock at the edge of a river. Some days the water is crystal clear, but other days it is muddy and fast-moving and dangerous." He said, "I want you to look at that water and tell me if it's muddy or clear. Then you can decide whether or not you put your foot in it." 
 
Good advice, yes? I need to stay on my own rock! And now that the holidays are coming, I need to be especially mindful of employing strategies to ensure serenity. 
 
Listening to music can soothe the savage beast. Remember Dionne Warwick's song from 1966 (when there were no world problems?@#!!)? 
 
"What the world needs now is love, sweet love. 
 
It's the only thing that there's just too little of..." 
 
Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!