I went for a long walk today: the sun in my face, the hard path beneath my feet, a riveting interview in my ears.

I listened to the Desert Island Discs episode with Matt Smith, best known for portraying the 11th incarnation of the Timelord in the BBC's Doctor Who and Prince Philip in Netflix's The Crown. Smith hadn't intended to become an actor, instead seeing his destiny in football (soccer). But when he was cut from his professional football club because of a chronic back condition, he was devastated. Smith told Desert Island Discs host Kirsty Young what his dad said to him at that moment, which he describes as one of the lowest points of his life.

Look, right, in life, you'll get knocked back. And now, it's how you react to this moment. And this is going to define who you are.

Smith said of his dad, "He’s the greatest influence on my life, bar none."

This evening, as I was reflecting on Smith's recounting of his father's advice, I came across a poem by Mary Oliver that had a similar feel:

I worried a lot. Will the garden grow, will the rivers

flow in the right direction, will the earth turn

as it was taught, and if not how shall

I correct it?

Was I right, was I wrong, will I be forgiven,

can I do better?

Will I ever be able to sing, even the sparrows

can do it and I am, well,

hopeless.

Is my eyesight fading or am I just imagining it,

am I going to get rheumatism,

lockjaw, dementia?

Finally, I saw that worrying had come to nothing.

And gave it up. And took my old body

and went out into the morning,

and sang.

I love the final lines of Oliver's poem: "And took my old body | and went out in the morning, | and sang."

Like Smith, I've been knocked back a few times in my life. And like Oliver, I've worried about the future, including matters that were not mine to solve. (Indeed, I often have to remind myself that certain issues are "not my circus, not my monkeys," which I learned this evening comes from the Polish saying, "Nie mój cyrk, nie moje małpy.")

Today was a good day to take my old body out into the morning—to sing, to walk and to be at peace.