Isn’t it wonderful that there are all these words by others that echo exactly what you might have said, or something that you think about, or something you’ve never thought about before but when you read it, the thoughts you thought you had tamed, do rollicking somersaults and before you know it you’re thinking new thoughts and wondering about things you’ve never wondered about before?
Isn’t it also wonderful that there can be quiet days, or moments of solitude when thoughts can go anywhere and where they go is always good and interesting and provocative, and you find yourself somehow changed in quiet, subtle ways?
Of course there is an entire school of thought — no pun intended — that says don’t think, feel; that thinking too much is bad for you. Who knows?
I like thought, thinking, thoughtfulness. But a life of mind has its challenges. So balancing that with action and feeling is always a good idea.
Speaking of balance and thinking…I am perplexed. There are now people who were one day perfectly normal and the next day are not. One or two of these people end up deep inside an MRI having their brain scanned because they’re seeing and talking to angels and battling demons and are surrounded by spirits and the doctor — the DOCTOR!! — is telling them that they are not nuts. These are curious times. There is a whole movement of people saying and doing some odd and curious things in preparation for 2012, or 2015, or something, and then science comes along at says that wait a second, humans might actually be able to discern magnetic fields through their field of vision, which is interesting because being indoors in artificial light is actually making our eyesight worse.
What are we to think about such things? That we barely know our world and all that’s in it? That would be true. Maybe we can think that we’re still learning and some things will always be odd, and some things will always be orthodox and other things defy labels and a good number of things will be flakey, weird and dangerous, some things will be absolutes and why will rarely ever be answered, except for the universal parental answer, because. For the minute that I can accept that answer, I am free to think about other things, the beautiful and borrowed things that leverage more thought: