I used to worry about what would happen five or 10 years from

When Hamilton Jordan declared, “I used to worry about what would happen five or 10 years from now, but I don't anymore. I thought about going to medical school because that has always interested me, but decided against it,” he spoke with the voice of one who has walked through the fire of uncertainty and emerged with clarity. His words are not simply about career paths or education; they are about the surrender of fear, the acceptance of life’s unpredictability, and the courage to live in the present rather than being shackled by the future.

The first truth he names is the burden of worry about the future. Many souls are consumed with anxiety over what lies five or ten years ahead, as though life could be calculated with exact precision. Yet Jordan’s words reveal the futility of such worry. Time is a river whose currents shift and bend; to try to control it with anxious thought is to exhaust oneself without moving forward. His statement reminds us of the ancient wisdom found in every tradition: that tomorrow is not yet ours, and the only strength we can hold is the strength of today.

The second truth lies in his reflection on medical school. Here, we see the dreams of youth, the allure of noble professions, the thought of dedicating one’s life to healing. And yet, Jordan chose another path, not because the dream was unworthy, but because he discerned that it was not his own destiny. This is a profound lesson: that not every good path is our path. To choose one calling requires the courage to lay down another, even when it shines brightly. True wisdom is not in pursuing every possibility, but in following the one that aligns with our deepest truth.

History is filled with such choices. Consider Marcus Aurelius, who could have been a poet or philosopher in solitude, but instead chose the burdens of empire, because duty called him to Rome’s throne. Or Florence Nightingale, who might have lived in comfort as a wealthy woman, but rejected such a life to serve the sick and the wounded. Each life holds crossroads where many noble paths appear, but destiny demands that we choose one. Jordan’s words remind us that to live well is not to regret the paths not taken, but to embrace the one we have chosen without fear of the future.

The deeper meaning of Jordan’s statement is liberation. By saying, “I don’t worry anymore,” he reveals freedom from the chains of anxiety. Such freedom does not come easily; it is forged in the crucible of trial, often in the shadow of mortality. Jordan himself faced life-threatening illness, and in that struggle, the illusion of control was shattered. From such moments arises a new clarity: that life is not measured in decades of planning, but in days lived with integrity and presence.

For us, the lesson is radiant. Do not be enslaved by endless worry over what might come. Plan with wisdom, yes, but do not let fear steal the joy of today. Honor your interests, your dreams, your curiosities, but remember that choosing one path means releasing others—and that is not failure, but focus. Whether you choose medicine, teaching, art, or leadership, walk with full heart upon the path you claim, and let go of the burden of what could have been.

Practical wisdom follows: practice gratitude daily for what is here, rather than fear for what is not yet. When faced with choices, do not be paralyzed by the thought of the future, but act with courage in the present. Release yourself from regret over the roads not taken, for they too are part of the landscape that shaped you. And if fear of the future haunts you, remember Jordan’s testimony: freedom lies not in certainty, but in trust, presence, and courage.

Thus, Hamilton Jordan’s words endure as a beacon. Worry fades, choices remain, presence redeems. Let us then live not as prisoners of tomorrow, but as stewards of today, choosing boldly, releasing regret, and walking forward with hearts unburdened by fear. In this, we will find not only peace, but purpose.