This one feels almost rude.
Because my thoughts certainly feel like they mean something. Some of them show up with charts, supporting evidence, witnesses, and a closing argument.
Especially the anxious ones.
If I’m worried about something, my mind doesn’t usually say, Here’s a random thought you can ignore. It says, Pay attention. This is important. We need to figure this out immediately.
And I believe it.
That may be what I’m starting to notice with this lesson: I have a habit of giving my thoughts authority simply because I’m the one thinking them.
A thought comes through — She’s upset with me — and I don’t experience it as a thought. I experience it as information.
I’m falling behind.
Information.
Something is going to go wrong.
Also information.
I shouldn’t have said that. I always do this. Why can’t I just keep my mouth shut?
At that point my mind has apparently promoted itself to judge, jury, and slightly unhinged life coach.
And I’m listening to every word.
What I like about this lesson, even though part of me resists it, is that it creates a little distance between me and everything running through my head.
Not every thought deserves a meeting.
That’s actually kind of a relief.
Because I can have a jealous thought without becoming a jealous person. I can think something unkind and decide not to say it. I can imagine the worst-case scenario without treating it like a prediction. I can have an insecure thought without turning it into a statement about who I am.
The thought happened.
That’s all I know so far.
This feels especially useful with the thoughts I’m embarrassed to admit I have.
The petty ones.
The comparing ones.
The why does she get that and I don’t? ones.
The thoughts where I replay an argument and, strangely enough, I am brilliant in every version.
Those thoughts too.
I don’t need to make them spiritually significant. I don’t need to shame myself for having them. And I probably don’t need to sit down and analyze every one of them until I discover what they say about my childhood, my future, and the state of my soul.
Some thoughts may just be… thoughts.
That sounds obvious until I notice how much of my day I spend obeying them.
I think, I need to fix this, so I send the text.
I think, She doesn’t really like me, so I pull back.
I think, I’m not doing enough, so I push myself harder.
I think, They shouldn’t treat me this way, and now I’m having an argument in the shower with someone who isn’t even there.
The thought comes first, and then I build a whole little world around it.
What if I didn’t?
Not forever. Not with every thought. I’m not aiming for some perfectly quiet mind here. Mine has been talking for a long time and seems quite committed to the position.
But maybe today I can catch one thought before I climb inside it.
Something happens. The familiar thought appears.
And instead of asking, Is this true? What does this mean? What should I do about it? right away, maybe I begin somewhere simpler:
It sounds almost too basic, but I can feel the difference.
I’m going to mess this up becomes I’m having the thought that I’m going to mess this up.
She doesn’t care about me becomes I’m having the thought that she doesn’t care about me.
I should be farther along by now becomes There’s that thought again.
A little space opens.
And inside that space, I don’t have to argue with the thought. I don’t have to replace it with something cheerful. I don’t even have to make it disappear.
I just don’t have to automatically believe it.
That may be the practice for me today.
Notice what my mind is saying without treating every sentence like a command.
Some thoughts will be useful. Some will be fearful. Some will be old habits wearing new clothes. Some will be completely ridiculous.
And maybe I don’t have to sort them all out.
Maybe I can simply become a little less impressed by everything I think.
Honestly, that alone could save me a lot of time.