Recently I’ve been re-evaluating thinking as an activity. I always thought it was where all the good stuff happened. I assumed that it was a Good Thing to be a deep thinker. That people who thought a lot were the people getting stuff done, and coming up with Big Ideas about Important Things.
But I’m not so sure anymore.
My own mind fluctuates wildly, depending on the moment, and the day - from being a fairly peaceful, chilled environment to a tangled mess of wild and competing thoughts, that fight with one another for dominance - and if it's a particularly bad day or moment, the ability to terrify me with their imaginings of doom, gloom and despair. In moments such as these, the unhelpful thoughts arise, as if from nowhere - triggering all manner of physical sensations - a sinking stomach, a jolt of terror, a fast being heart to mention a few.
And then my thoughts fight with one another - I start critiquing my thoughts, knowing they’re unhelpful but not knowing how to stop them. So instead, what ensues, is a pointless, circular thought-argument.
Basically, I feel bad, and then I feel bad that I’m feeling bad.
It’s a hot mess, and not much fun to experience.
Even when I’m feeling pretty cheerful my head can be a busy place. Sometimes I’m able to stop and observe the chatter. And it never ceases to amaze me how much there can be. My thoughts leap from the past to the future. From remembering an event, to imagining how this or that person may be thinking about this or that situation.
It leaps all over the shop. Trying to predict, plan, and generally work things out. It’s exhausting to experience, and my brain ends up feeling a bit like a greyhound that doesn’t know when to stop.
And this is coming from someone who has integrated a yoga and meditation practice into their life. Who has a good working knowledge of mindfulness practices, and has a pretty good toolbox of tricks to work with in this field.
Such is the compulsion to think, think and think some more.
Over the years I’ve played with reframing. I’ve used positive affirmations, and made wholehearted attempts to change my internal narrative for the better. And what I’ve discovered on the journey so far, is that nothing (and I mean nothing) can really make an impact until you can calm those thoughts down. Until you can catch the greyhound, reassure him that it’s ok to stop, and lead him lovingly to his cosy bed.
Until your mind is at rest, it’s extraordinarily hard for any messages, however positive, hopeful and uplifting to penetrate in a meaningful way.
First, your mind has to quieten down.
It needs to get still.
The thoughts need to stop for a bit, and you need to be able to find a space - however momentary - for your brain to take a beat. To unfurl itself. Like an overused muscle it needs to rest in order to develop.
It needs you to pause your thoughts. To listen to the wind in the trees, or the ticking clock or the purring cat. It needs you to focus on something steady and consistent and neutral to allow it to unclench.
If you’ve ever had a massage or got into your bed at the end of a long day, or sat down after being on your feet for a long time, you’ll know the sensation that I mean. It’s a sensation that’s often accompanied by a noisy exhale. A release of energy that’s been pent up.
Resting your thoughts is no different than placing your tired feet on a comfy stool and leaning back into your sofa cushions. It’s a delicious relief, and it needs to happen more often. For all of us.
Because when we do stop in this way - that’s when we’re able to access the flow of life. That’s when we’re able to receive flashes of intuition and inspiration - when that flicker of joy can grow into something bigger and more fulfilling.
That’s when we can sit back and appreciate everything that’s working out for us. Everything that is falling into place in the most beautiful and satisfying way.
That’s when we can finally work out our next step, and feel good about it.