### Why does my brain keep imagining the worst case scenario?

I believe the human imagination, while a gift, is often hijacked by what I call the 'shadow of the future.' When we look ahead, we do not see the future as it will be, but as a distorted collection of our present fears. You are attempting to carry the weight of tomorrow's potential crosses with only today's strength. In my view, the enemy of our souls wants us to live in a state of perpetual agitation about things that may never occur, because as long as we are paralyzed by the 'virtual,' we are ineffective in the 'actual.' Focus your attention on the task at hand, however small.

How do I stop worrying about things I can't control?

The desire for total control is, at its heart, a desire to be like God. We overthink because we mistakenly believe that if we can just solve the puzzle of the future, we will be safe. But safety is not found in knowing what will happen; it is found in the character of the One who holds the world. I often suggested that we must practice the 'law of undulation'—accepting that our moods and certainties will ebb and flow. When the tide of confidence is low, do not panic. Simply attend to your immediate duties and leave the cosmic outcomes to the Creator.

Is there a way to find immediate calm when feeling overwhelmed?

I would advise you to come out of your head and back into your body. Look at the chair you are sitting in, the light coming through the window, or the person across the room. These are real things, whereas your anxieties are often mere possibilities. I found that a brisk walk or a quiet reading of a familiar book helps ground the soul. We are composite creatures—both spirit and animal—and sometimes the quickest way to steady the spirit is to attend to the quiet requirements of the animal. God is in the present moment; find Him there in the simple reality of existing.

Why do I feel so much pressure to have my life figured out?

This pressure is a peculiar modern vanity. We are not meant to have it all 'figured out' as if life were a math equation. We are more like characters in a great story who only see one page at a time. Much of our anxiety stems from trying to read the ending before we have finished the chapter. I argue that our primary job is to be faithful in the small things, to love our neighbor, and to accept our own limitations. Humility is the greatest antidote to overthinking. When you realize you aren't the author of the play, the pressure to write a perfect script vanishes.

Can faith really help with physical symptoms of anxiety?

Faith is not a magic wand that eliminates the chemistry of fear, but it provides a framework to endure it. I have known the 'chatter' of the nerves quite well myself. Faith helps by reminding us that our feelings are not final. Even when your heart races and your palms sweat, the truth of your value and the reality of a loving God remain unchanged. Treat these physical symptoms as you would a passing storm—uncomfortable and loud, yes, but ultimately unable to destroy the hidden life of the soul if you keep your eyes fixed on his Eternal Mercy.

How do I stop overthinking and calm my anxiety right now? — C.S. Lewis's answer

C.S. Lewis

1898–1963

It is a strange thing about our minds that they often behave like a frantic hiker lost in a forest, desperately running in circles to find an exit, when the only way to actually see the horizon is to stand perfectly still. You are trying to think your way out of a state of mind that was created by too much thinking in the first place. It’s a bit like trying to use a blowtorch to put out a fire. When your heart is racing and your thoughts are spinning into every possible "what if," what you are experiencing is a distorted form of longing. You want safety; you want a version of the future where you aren't hurt. That is a natural, even holy desire, but your imagination is currently using it to torture you. It presents you with a thousand dark rooms and demands that you find the light switch in all of them simultaneously. The first thing to do is to stop arguing with the anxiety. You cannot win a debate with a feeling. Instead, come back to the physical room you are in. Anxiety lives in a future that hasn't happened yet, but your body lives in the present. Touch the grain of the wooden table under your hand or listen to the hum of the refrigerator. These small, concrete things are real; the catastrophes in your head are merely ghosts. I have found that the steadying of the soul often begins with the admission that we are not the masters of our own fate. We try to control the universe through overthinking because we are terrified of being vulnerable. But you are vulnerable—we all are. Once you accept that you cannot think your way into perfect security, the pressure drops. Try to offer up the next ten minutes to God, or to the universe, or simply to the silence. Don't worry about next week. Just be here, in this chair, breathing this air. You are cared for in ways your panic cannot yet see. Be quiet, and let the hiker rest.

From the council, together

## How can C.S. Lewis help me find peace when my racing thoughts won't stop? You are likely sitting there with a mind that feels less like a quiet room and more like a crowded station where every train is a looming catastrophe. The modern world offers a thousand digital mirrors that reflect our anxieties back at us, magnifying the 'what ifs' until they feel like objective reality. In the tradition of C.S. Lewis, this state of overthinking is often viewed as the soul being tricked into living everywhere except the present moment. Lewis understood that we are frequently tempted to flee from the actual, concrete present—the only place where God and reality exist—to inhabit a terrifying, imaginary future that hasn't happened yet. He often observed that while the past is settled and the present is where duty and joy reside, the future is the most unreal of periods, filled with phantoms that drain our current strength. This perspective suggests that your anxiety is not merely a mental glitch, but a distraction from the fundamental reality of your being. By overthinking, you may be trying to seize control of a universe that is far larger than your own intellect can map. The goal is not to solve every possible problem with more thought, but to recognize that much of this mental noise is a secondary shadow, lacking the substance of the life you are actually meant to live in this very second. It is a strange thing about our minds that they often behave like a frantic hiker lost in a forest, desperately running in circles to find an exit, when the only way to actually see the horizon is to stand perfectly still. You are trying to think your way out of a state of mind that was created by too much thinking in the first place. It’s a bit like trying to use a blowtorch to put out a fire. When your heart is racing and your thoughts are spinning into every possible "what if," what you are experiencing is a distorted form of longing. You want safety; you want a version of the future where you aren't hurt. That is a natural, even holy desire, but your imagination is currently using it to torture you. It presents you with a thousand dark rooms and demands that you find the light switch in all of them simultaneously. The first thing to do is to stop arguing with the anxiety. You cannot win a debate with a feeling. Instead, come back to the physical room you are in. Anxiety lives in a future that hasn't happened yet, but your body lives in the present. Touch the grain of the wooden table under your hand or listen to the hum of the refrigerator. These small, concrete things are real; the catastrophes in your head are merely ghosts. I have found that the steadying of the soul often begins with the admission that we are not the masters of our own fate. We try to control the universe through overthinking because we are terrified of being vulnerable. But you are vulnerable—we all are. Once you accept that you cannot think your way into perfect security, the pressure drops. Try to offer up the next ten minutes to God, or to the universe, or simply to the silence. Don't worry about next week. Just be here, in this chair, breathing this air. You are cared for in ways your panic cannot yet see. Be quiet, and let the hiker rest.

Common questions

### Why does my brain keep imagining the worst case scenario?: I believe the human imagination, while a gift, is often hijacked by what I call the 'shadow of the future.' When we look ahead, we do not see the future as it will be, but as a distorted collection of our present fears. You are attempting to carry the weight of tomorrow's potential crosses with only today's strength. In my view, the enemy of our souls wants us to live in a state of perpetual agitation about things that may never occur, because as long as we are paralyzed by the 'virtual,' we are ineffective in the 'actual.' Focus your attention on the task at hand, however small.
How do I stop worrying about things I can't control?: The desire for total control is, at its heart, a desire to be like God. We overthink because we mistakenly believe that if we can just solve the puzzle of the future, we will be safe. But safety is not found in knowing what will happen; it is found in the character of the One who holds the world. I often suggested that we must practice the 'law of undulation'—accepting that our moods and certainties will ebb and flow. When the tide of confidence is low, do not panic. Simply attend to your immediate duties and leave the cosmic outcomes to the Creator.
Is there a way to find immediate calm when feeling overwhelmed?: I would advise you to come out of your head and back into your body. Look at the chair you are sitting in, the light coming through the window, or the person across the room. These are real things, whereas your anxieties are often mere possibilities. I found that a brisk walk or a quiet reading of a familiar book helps ground the soul. We are composite creatures—both spirit and animal—and sometimes the quickest way to steady the spirit is to attend to the quiet requirements of the animal. God is in the present moment; find Him there in the simple reality of existing.
Why do I feel so much pressure to have my life figured out?: This pressure is a peculiar modern vanity. We are not meant to have it all 'figured out' as if life were a math equation. We are more like characters in a great story who only see one page at a time. Much of our anxiety stems from trying to read the ending before we have finished the chapter. I argue that our primary job is to be faithful in the small things, to love our neighbor, and to accept our own limitations. Humility is the greatest antidote to overthinking. When you realize you aren't the author of the play, the pressure to write a perfect script vanishes.
Can faith really help with physical symptoms of anxiety?: Faith is not a magic wand that eliminates the chemistry of fear, but it provides a framework to endure it. I have known the 'chatter' of the nerves quite well myself. Faith helps by reminding us that our feelings are not final. Even when your heart races and your palms sweat, the truth of your value and the reality of a loving God remain unchanged. Treat these physical symptoms as you would a passing storm—uncomfortable and loud, yes, but ultimately unable to destroy the hidden life of the soul if you keep your eyes fixed on his Eternal Mercy.