One evening last week, I trudged up my front stairs, up to my door on the second floor, grocery tote bags in tow. I paused on my welcome mat for a moment, trying to figure out if I could pull out the right key from my crowded ring without having to place all my parcels down.

Eureka! I found the right key easily enough. I guided the key into the lock and turned the knob, pushing my hip against the door to help me work the door over the place in threshold where it seems to get stuck. Then, I flung the door open.

If it weren’t for the brass doorstop a few inches off the floor, the inside of the door knob would have certainly made an imprint on my recently painted walls. I had never given much thought to my doorstop before, but I felt a wave of gratitude as I headed towards the kitchen to get my milk and eggs into the fridge.

It really protected my wall. It insured that I didn’t do any unintended damage while I wasn’t thinking, when I lost control of how hard I pushed. I considered that my life is full of such things: everyday devices or small habits that provide some level of protection when I’m not being mindful.

Many cars have daytime running lights so you don’t run your battery down if you forget to turn them off. Holes at the bottom of flowerpots help keep you from over-watering. I’ve gotten into the habit of reading food labels when grocery shopping and purposely steer away from items with a quickly approaching expiration date – even if an item’s on sale

Doesn’t everyone want to feel protected?

I just drove a friend to a colonoscopy appointment. (Ah, the joys of being middle-aged.) It was a routine test and was ordered based on the number of years that passed since his last one, not any troubling symptoms. I am glad I escorted him. It was obvious to both of us, as we searched the curtained off recovery area for where they put his cell phone and shoes, driving himself home was not a good idea. By his own admission, he was kind of loopy following the procedure.

When I was in my twenties, we used the term protection as a euphemism for using condoms for sex, for guarding against an unwanted pregnancy or an STD. It seems funny to me, now that I’m in my fifties (the new thirties, right?), that the notion of protection is largely framed in terms of age-appropriate medical tests.

Driving back to his neighborhood, we talked about different medical tests and whether we felt they were important. Doctors, of course, are afraid of lawsuits and will often try to order everything possible. It seems reasonable to consider family history and be more vigilant to follow-up on symptoms that became challenges for family members.

But sometimes it feels like the idea of protection, and what constitutes reasonable precautions, has run amok in our world. By focusing on what could possibly go wrong, we can actually move farther away from achieving a sense of security.

I find myself both feeling grateful for things like doorstops and, though I don’t consider myself a Pollyanna type, I’ve become a little resentful of messages that make everything sound potentially harmful. I am leery of new age thinking that forwards the notion that your thoughts create your reality. Being afraid of your own thoughts is hell.

I think everyone has to find his or her own path. How does one go about achieving a sense of feeling protected?  I am trying to inform myself more thoroughly about things I haven’t been in the habit of studying. I have also incorporated prayer into my life. Surrender seems to be an important aspect of a happy life.

Increasing your sense of security with mindfulness without trying to control life or find things to be fearful about is no small thing.