Daily Quote for April 9, 2025 | Abraham-Hicks

We have all said it—and we have all heard it. “I’m only saying this because I’m worried about you.” “I couldn’t sleep last night because I was so concerned.” In our society, we have been conditioned to believe that the intensity of our worry is a direct measurement of the depth of our love. We wear our anxiety like a badge of honor, a testament to how much we care.

However, a profound teaching from Esther Hicks challenges this fundamental assumption. The premise is simple but radical: You cannot worry about someone and love them at the same time.

At first glance, this statement feels counterintuitive. If we didn’t love them, why would we worry? But when we peel back the layers of these two emotions, we find that they exist on entirely different frequencies. Understanding this distinction is the key to moving from a love that restricts to a love that empowers.

To understand why these two emotions cannot coexist, we have to look at what they actually represent. Love, in its purest form, is an expansive, high-frequency emotion. It is synonymous with appreciation, faith, and seeing the best in someone. When you love someone, you are connected to their strength, their potential, and their innate well-being.

Worry, on the other hand, is rooted in fear. It is a focus on lack, a preoccupation with what could go wrong, and a projection of a negative future. When you worry about someone, you are essentially signaling—to yourself and to them—that you do not believe they are capable, safe, or supported by the universe. While love says, “I see your power,” worry says, “I see your vulnerability.” You cannot occupy both of those mental spaces simultaneously.

Most of us know what it feels like to be on the receiving end of someone’s worry. It doesn’t feel like a warm hug; it feels like a heavy weight. When someone worries about us, they are reflecting back a version of ourselves that is fragile and in danger. This “energetic projection” can be stifling. Instead of feeling cheered on, we feel the need to manage the other person’s anxiety.

When we mistake worry for love, we inadvertently place a burden on the people we care about most. We ask them to “be careful” or “do better” not for their own growth, but so that we can feel less anxious. True love, by contrast, is a gift of freedom. It provides a “safe harbor” of positive expectation that allows the other person to find their own way.

If we want to truly support those we love, we must learn the art of “holding the vision.” This means consciously choosing to focus on a person’s resilience rather than their risks. It means trusting that their journey—even the messy parts—is leading them somewhere valuable.

The shift isn’t about becoming indifferent or uncaring. It is about becoming more caring by choosing a higher quality of thought. Next time you feel the familiar knot of worry tightening in your chest, ask yourself: “Am I looking at this person through the eyes of fear, or the eyes of love?”

Love is not found in the sleepless nights spent imagining worst-case scenarios. Love is found in the steady, unwavering belief in another person’s wholeness. As the excerpt suggests, it is time we stop mistaking the turbulence of worry for the soul-deep stillness of love. When we let go of the worry, we finally make room for the love to do its real work.

[Reference]:

You cannot worry about someone and love them at the same time. Most people mistake the emotion of worry for the emotion of love. They think that worrying about somebody means that you love them.

Excerpted from Chicago, IL on 11/2/97

Our Love,
Esther
(and Abraham and Jerry)