This poignant observation by the poet Mary Oliver encapsulates a profound challenge of the human experience: how to remain open, joyful, and deeply engaged with the world in the face of inevitable loss. For author and organic farming pioneer Myra Goodman, translating that poetic ideal into daily life required confronting decades of deep-seated anxiety, intergenerational trauma, and the sudden, heart-wrenching loss of a beloved family friend.
Goodman, the award-winning author of four books and co-founder of Earthbound Farm—which she helped grow over thirty years from a humble backyard garden into the world’s largest grower of organic produce—has spent much of her life navigating an internal landscape shaped by fear. Despite her professional achievements and later work establishing Quest for Eternal Sunshine, an online platform providing free resources for emotional healing and well-being, her personal journey has been defined by a long struggle against the terror of life’s fragility.
Through a series of harrowing personal encounters with grief, culminating in a tragic accident that claimed the life of a close friend, Goodman has arrived at a powerful realization: while the reality of impermanence is non-negotiable, the choice to live in constant fear of loss is not.
The Echoes of Inherited Grief and Childhood Loss
Goodman’s struggle with anxiety began long before she could fully comprehend its roots. Growing up as the child of two Holocaust survivors, she spent her formative years submerged in an emotional atmosphere thick with unspoken grief, devastation, and residual terror. Both of her parents had been orphaned during World War II, suffering the near-total destruction of their families and the complete loss of their material possessions.
This profound history left an indelible mark on Goodman’s upbringing. She inherited an activated nervous system perpetually primed for catastrophe—a subconscious legacy that framed death not as a natural phase of existence, but as an apocalyptic threat capable of shattering reality without warning.
This inherited vulnerability was further compounded by early childhood experiences. Within the span of just a few years, three children close to Goodman lost one of their parents. Witnessing the sudden emotional destruction of those families confirmed her deepest fears: the world was inherently unsafe, and the people she loved could vanish in an instant. The resulting emotional shock triggered intense panic attacks centered on the potential death of her own parents, instilling a persistent hypervigilance that persisted into her adult life.
For decades, Goodman fought against this chronic state of alarm. Through dedicated healing practices and intentional efforts to regulate her nervous system, she gradually began to experience greater ease and emotional stability. However, the true test of her progress would come when theoretical understanding met unexpected tragedy.
A Sudden Loss and the Resurgence of Fear
The fragile peace Goodman had cultivated was severely tested when tragedy struck her inner circle. Seth Pollack—a cherished family friend described as wise, generous, joyous, and deeply woven into Goodman’s life—was hit by a car during an early morning bicycle ride. He died instantly.
The suddenness of Pollack’s death thrust his wife, one of Goodman’s closest friends, and their daughters into an immediate state of profound mourning. For Goodman, the news was a devastating blow that shattered her hard-won sense of security. In an instant, the old terrors that had haunted her childhood returned with full force. Life once again appeared menacing, unpredictable, and unbearably fragile.
In the months that followed, as the initial shock gave way to the ongoing reality of Pollack’s absence, Goodman found herself reflecting deeply on both the tragedy of his passing and the vibrant nature of his life. Almost a year after the accident, while the pain of the loss remained raw, the legacy of how Pollack lived—and the courageous, open manner in which his family navigated their grief—began to offer crucial insights into how to move forward.
Accepting the Truth of Impermanence
Pollack’s death served as a stark, undeniable confirmation of a truth Goodman had spent a lifetime trying to avoid: there is no way to guarantee safety or ensure that loved ones will be here tomorrow. While her chronic anxiety had been magnified by childhood trauma, the core fear—that life can change in a single second—was grounded in reality.
However, recognizing this reality brought a fundamental shift in perspective. Goodman came to understand that anxiety and hypervigilance offer no actual protection against tragedy. Constantly bracing for potential disaster does not shield anyone from pain; it merely consumes the vitality of the present.
The conditions of human existence are non-negotiable. Every life is defined by impermanence. Facing this truth left Goodman with two clear paths: remain emotionally imprisoned by the terror of inevitable loss, or allow the certainty of impermanence to illuminate the value of the present moment.
Cultivating Presence Instead of Fear
When a remarkably vibrant person dies, their finest qualities often come into sharper focus for those left behind. Pollack had lived a life defined by generosity, faith, and an unreserved engagement with the world. He lived without allowing fear to dictate his choices or narrow his experience.
Recognizing that Pollack would never want his legacy to instill greater fear in those who loved him, Goodman began to question her own response to mortality. Looking ahead to the end of her own life, she realized she did not want a legacy dominated by worry and missed joy.
Because intellectual reasoning had rarely succeeded in dismantling her anxiety, Goodman decided to initiate a practical experiment with her own internal state. Rather than trying to force a permanent transformation or suppress her anxious thoughts, she posed a simple question to the defensive, fearful parts of herself: Could we set fear aside for just one afternoon?
The experiment involved acknowledging anxious thoughts as they arose, reassuring herself that those concerns could be addressed later, and intentionally redirecting her focus back to the present moment. By giving herself permission to pause hypervigilance for just a few hours, she sought to embody the ease, faith, and buoyancy that Pollack had modeled.
The result of this single-afternoon experiment was profound. Though Goodman carried out her routine domestic activities, her internal experience changed dramatically. She felt noticeably lighter and more open to connection. She found herself maintaining longer eye contact with her husband, singing freely while walking her dogs, and offering longer, warmer hugs. Nothing in her external environment had altered, yet her experience of living had been completely transformed.
The Cost of Living in Fear
This simple practice exposed the true price of chronic hypervigilance. Fear demands absolute certainty before allowing a person to feel secure—a requirement that life can never satisfy. In its quest for safety, fear narrows vision, fosters wariness, and directs focus exclusively toward potential threats, cutting individuals off from the richness of immediate experience.
Conversely, trust does not require an guarantee of safety. It allows individuals to participate fully in a world characterized by uncertainty.
By stepping away from fear for brief, intentional periods, Goodman tasted the freedom that becomes available when mental energy is no longer drained by constant vigilance. Repeating this practice over time demonstrated that neural and emotional patterns, no matter how deeply ingrained, can be shifted through intentional presence. The more frequently she chose presence over anxiety, the more accessible and natural that state became.
Choosing What to Carry Forward
Goodman’s journey underscores a pivotal psychological insight: while inherited legacies of fear and traumatic history are powerful, they do not have to dictate the future.
The reality of sudden loss confirms that pain is an unavoidable aspect of loving others deeply. However, endlessly anticipating that pain neither prepares a person for loss nor mitigates the grief when it arrives. Instead of allowing mortality to serve as an argument for defensive living, impermanence can be understood as the ultimate reason to love fully, connect deeply, and appreciate the present without reservation.
By reframing impermanence from a source of terror into a reminder of life’s extraordinary value, Goodman continues to honor the memory of her friend and reclaim her own path forward—choosing, as Mary Oliver wrote, to engage with the world not out of fear, but with arms open to amazement.
