What’s for dinner? My arm’s asleep. You’re doing that wrong. I shouldn’t have said that. Are those carrots? I’m wasting my life. They don’t like me. Oh what a pretty flower! I need to do something. I don’t get it. I want to get it. I’ll never get it. There’s not enough money. I’m bad. My shoelace is untied. I’m alone unloved and abandoned. I don’t like this. I do like this. Like, like, like. Don’t like, don’t like, don’t like. I’ll never be good enough. I’m too old. Where’s the cat?
Thought. It’s what’s for dinner. Always something to chew on. Always another helping coming right up.
In fact there’s so much that it feels as if we get lost in thought, or caught in thought. Like it’s some kind of magical thicket or forest or maze or something.
Although if we pay attention we can see that there’s nothing there, no maze, nothing to keep us trapped inside anything. Just some words, some sounds. It could as easily be, “Arooth mekinnel pariseem” as, “I’m not good enough.”
Sounds, letters, shapes. That’s about it.
‘Course, we attribute meaning to some sounds.
Which thought just loves. Because meaning is where pain lives.
“Alumm halleee fersid?” Nothing. “Krulleee?” Nope. “I’ll die alone and unloved?” Now we’re talking. Now we’ve got something to hold on to. Because those words mean we are doomed, not enough as is, inadequate.
Those words mean we are.
“Blah blah kurleee blah flower blah failure blah enough blah dinner blah misgilibee.” “Blah” is not painful, “misgilibee” is not painful, “flower” is not painful. “Failure” is. Because it's meaning about Me. That comes with pain, which solidly locks the sense of self into feeling real.
No meaning, no pain. No pain, no importance. No importance, no trap. And no problem.
Put another way, where there’s pain, there’s self.
Which is why it can seem so important to focus on the thoughts that seem to generate difficult feelings. We spend so much time figuring out which hurt and what they mean and whether we agree with them or like them or believe them or whether they’re true. We’re devoted to stopping thoughts, changing them, having more positive ones, and not letting them get the better of us.
Busy busy busy. Thinking thinking thinking.
The self is identified with all that activity.
So perhaps we could consider instead, just for a moment, whether it actually even matters what we think, what thoughts are about, or whether we believe them.
Because it could just be we haven't noticed that, “Oh look, a penny!” is exactly the same in power and importance as, “There’s something wrong with me.”
And even though for some Mind-Tickler readers this is a scandalous idea, still it might be that what thoughts are about is not what it’s about.
Because without all the focus and attention we dedicatedly give them, thoughts are just radio playing in the background. Background sound doesn’t have to be changed or fixed. It can just play on. No biggie.
And the feeling that’s left when thought plays its meandering blah blah songs without scrutiny, analysis, focus, or attention… well, it’s pretty sweet. In fact it’s the opposite of painful, for a change.
Somehow all that very important problematic stuff suddenly isn’t a problem.
Same life, same Me, same thoughts. Just the “So what?” is new.
We may find that one thought is as good and as equal as the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And that nothing has to be done about any of it.
Which might make that whole maze thing a whole bunch of nothing.
Now there's something to chew on and eat through for dinner.
Get your Mind-Tickled every week.