Reading the Sky of the Soul
Every morning, I give my students a writing prompt. An invitation to explore the thoughts in their heads and the emotions in their hearts. These journals are private, theirs alone, a place where honesty can stretch its legs without fear of judgment. After they’ve spent time wrestling with their words, I’ll often ask gentle follow-up questions to help them explore deeper.
Today’s prompt was simple:
“If your feelings were weather today, what would the forecast be?”
As I thought about that question myself, it struck me that forecasts aren’t just about reporting the weather, they’re about preparing for it. A forecast tells you if you need sunscreen, a raincoat, or snow boots. It helps you know if your plans should change or whether or not you should avoid certain activities.
And that’s when it hit me: there’s a thin but important line between anticipation and anxiety. Both look forward. Both imagine what could come. But one equips us to walk the trail with readiness, while the other traps us in fear before we’ve even laced our boots.
Reading the Sky Within
Life, like the mountains, always comes with weather. Some days dawn clear and calm; others roll in with sudden storms. We can’t control the sky, but we can learn to read our inner forecast.
- Anticipation is like checking the trail report before a long hike. You see a chance of thunderstorms and pack a rain jacket. You’re still excited for the climb.
- Anxiety is staring at that same forecast and imagining lightning strikes, washed-out trails, and yourself stranded and helpless. Suddenly, you don’t want to hike at all.
The sky hasn’t changed. Only your interpretation has.
Anticipation: Packing for the Climb
Anticipation isn’t the enemy, it’s a trail guide. It’s the inner voice that says, “This part will be steep, bring extra water.”
Psychologists note that anticipation is deeply tied to motivation. When we look forward to something (even something hard) our brain’s planning centers activate, helping us prepare (LeDoux, 2015). Anticipation doesn’t erase discomfort, but it equips us to meet it.
Think of a big presentation, a doctor’s appointment, or your child’s first soccer game. Anticipation motivates rehearsal, gathers paperwork, and helps us arrive on time. It gives us agency, turning fear of the unknown into preparation for the path.
In Crock Pot Faith, I wrote that transformation unfolds like a long ascent. Step by step, not in a single spark. Anticipation is part of that slow preparation. It paces us, strengthens us, and points us toward growth.
Anxiety: When Clouds Turn to Hurricanes
But anticipation has a shadow. Where anticipation equips, anxiety catastrophizes. Instead of checking the clouds, anxiety invents hurricanes.
On the trail, anxiety whispers: “What if I slip? What if I get lost? What if I never make it back?” Before long, you’re exhausted before you’ve even taken a step.
Research shows that anxiety hijacks the amygdala (the brain’s built-in alarm system) so it keeps sounding sirens even when there’s no real danger (Beck, 1976). The result is racing thoughts, a rapid heartbeat, and a shrinking sense of possibility. Where anticipation opens doors, anxiety slams them shut.
In When the Storm Is What You Need, I wrote that real storms strip away our illusion of control but also wash us clean. Anxiety doesn’t lie about danger, it just amplifies it. It soaks us with fear before the first drop of rain has even fallen.
Finding the Trail Again: Shifting from Anxiety Back to Anticipation
Here’s the good news: we don’t have to stay trapped in the storm. We can retrain our inner weather readers.
- Name It. Neuroscience shows that labeling emotions calms the amygdala (Lieberman et al., 2007). Saying, “This is anticipation” versus “This is anxiety” creates space between us and the storm.
- Reality Check. Ask: “Am I checking the weather, or inventing a storm?” Is there evidence for my worry, or am I letting fear exaggerate the forecast?
- Reframe the What Ifs. Instead of, “What if I mess up my presentation?” try, “What if I prepare well and surprise myself with how capable I am?”
Psychiatrist Dan Siegel calls this widening our window of tolerance, moving from reactivity to receptivity. Anxiety narrows that window; anticipation expands it, helping us stay present and steady.
Preparing Without Pretending
Reading our inner forecast doesn’t mean storms disappear. Life doesn’t work that way. What it does mean is that we step into storms with steadiness.
Think of an umbrella. It doesn’t stop the rain, but it keeps you dry enough to keep walking. Or football pads: they don’t remove risk of the game, but they allow the game to be played with some safety.
Our emotional forecasts work the same way. Naming anticipation helps us pack the right gear: umbrellas for the downpour, pads for the hit. Anxiety tells us to stay off the field altogether. Anticipation equips us to enter the game anyway.
In The Soft Heart, I argued that real resilience isn’t about hardening, it’s about staying open. Anticipation does just that: it softens us into readiness. Anxiety hardens us into paralysis.
Checking the Forecast in Ourselves and Our Children
This isn’t just for kids in a classroom. As adults, we carry inner weather every day. Some mornings are calm; others roll in heavy and gray. Checking our forecast doesn’t stop the storms, but it helps us meet them with more wisdom.
And if we want our children to grow in resilience, it starts with us modeling it. Attachment research shows that children build trust not when we avoid storms, but when we name them and walk through them together (Siegel & Bryson, 2011). Sometimes that’s as simple as asking:
“How is your heart today?”
That one question opens a doorway, for us and for them. It gives permission to name what’s real without judgment. It reminds us that emotional fluency isn’t about avoiding storms but about walking through them side by side, umbrella in hand.
Reflection for the Journey
So let me leave you with this:
What’s your inner weather forecast today?
Are you preparing for the trail ahead, or bracing for storms that may never come?
And maybe the best place to begin is with that simple question. For yourself and for those you love:
“How is your heart today?”
Because courage isn’t about banishing the clouds. It’s about lacing up anyway; umbrella in hand, heart open to whatever weather comes.
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