Not Today

“What do we say to the god of death? Not today.”

Game of Thrones 
George R.R. Martin

Coming a little late to the party, we recently finished watching all eight seasons of Game of Thrones. As I suspected it might be, the series was extremely violent. I had heard that many viewers were disappointed with the ending. I thought it was okay—not especially satisfying, but not as terrible as I had been led to expect.

For me, one of the most memorable moments in the entire production is when Melisandre asks Arya, “What do we say to the god of death?” Arya replies, “Not today.”

“Not today” is my new mantra.

“The steps are icy. I might fall.”

“Not today.”

“Everyone is sick. I could catch what they have.”

“Not today.”

“I’m getting older. Something is bound to go wrong.”

“Not today.”

There is something wonderfully defiant about those two words. They acknowledge that bad things can happen without allowing the possibility of them to take over the present. “Not today” doesn’t insist that we are invincible, nor does it promise that life will always go as we hope. It simply refuses to suffer tomorrow’s troubles before they arrive.

So much of what we fear exists only in anticipation. We imagine the fall, the illness, the disappointment or the loss—and then experience it emotionally before anything has actually happened. Our minds are remarkably talented at turning possibilities into certainties.

“Not today” interrupts that habit.

It brings us back to the day we are actually living. Today, the steps may be icy, but I can walk carefully. Today, other people may be sick, but I am well. Today, there may be reasons to worry, but there are also reasons to be grateful. I don’t have to solve every problem the future may bring. I only have to meet this day.

Perhaps that is one of the secrets to living with greater peace: taking life one day at a time, not as a tired expression but as a deliberate practice. We don’t have to believe that nothing bad will ever happen. We only have to believe in the possibility of good today.

Then, tomorrow, we can choose to believe it again.

If we continue—one day, and then the next, and the day after that—we may eventually reach a place where expecting some measure of goodness becomes a habit. Not blind optimism, but quiet courage. Not a denial of life’s uncertainties, but a refusal to let them steal the day in front of us.

There will always be something we could fear. But does it have to happen today?

Not today.

Peace be with you.