Living in today’s world reminds me of the partial line from Rudyard Kipling’s poem, If: “If you can keep your head when all about you are losing theirs…” This bumps squarely into another metaphor: “The inmates are running the asylum.” For most of us, these expressions underscore a sense of frustration, anxiety, and uncertainty. It seems to pervade the continuum of our lives—politics, religion, education, the economy, and even sports.

How can we cope with all of this? For some, escaping to a quiet place, ‘going off the grid,’ or seeking the solace of prayer are ways that work for the short term. Others might seek out a good novel or collection of fictional short stories. Still, these are symptoms—not the cure. So, what then?

Enter the insights of Melissa Kirsch of The New York Times’ “The Morning.” She shares a provocative piece about coping in today’s world:

“Practice being present in the here and now.” What that looks like for me is deliberately feeling my feet on the firm ground, reminding myself that I’m here, in my living room or on this street or in this park.

My brain may be spinning, trying to make sense of everything happening everywhere, but I’m right here on this patch of grass. I have agency. I can decide, for a minute or an hour, an afternoon or a weekend, to really try to observe what’s happening around me, to take one deep breath of this delectable spring air. There is a lot going on in the world, but there’s also a lot going on in my world that I don’t want to miss.

“A wise friend advised me when I was worrying recently to ‘move the horizon closer.’ I love this. My eyes are always cast on some distant point in the future. Moving the horizon closer means to keep my thoughts and fantasies and fears contained to this plane, this moment, without spinning out into the atmosphere.

The here and now is all we have, and it’s a lot, for everyone. You don’t have to consult an oracle to know this. But the reminder is useful: Where are you right now? What is happening in that space, in that moment? How can you inhabit it fully? How can you move the horizon closer?”

For those of you who follow my website or Facebook page, you know that soon I’ll be releasing my first collection of fictional short stories. I can’t control the release date. I can’t control who will buy it—or not. I can’t predict when I’ll recoup my investment. My health is another part of life I cannot control—bladder cancer has a way of doing that.

Still, I can take Melissa’s two lessons to heart.

First: cope with whatever is “out there” by focusing on my life here and now, and appreciate what I have—and what I can offer others.

Second: bring my horizon much closer. Maybe I can no longer plan exciting trips or visits months in advance. Maybe I can’t predict what may or may not happen at some future point. But I can define a horizon that reflects my new reality—rooted in the here and now—and not build my hopes on a fantasy built around what I can’t control.

In short, I’ll leave the fantasies to my fictional writing.