Lost in thought

Lost in Thought.

Thoughtful. Thoughtless.

 We human have up to 80,000 thoughts a day. Did you just feel your brain explode? I did. I mean I felt MY brain explode, not yours.

 These thoughts are primary about the past: ruminations, regrets, retellings of old tales, replaying past conversations or situations, wishing things had turned out differently, fantasizing about a time when things were different (better). Or they are about the future: planning, scheduling, strategizing, list-making, hoping, wanting, anticipating, fearing.

 So we are, literally, thoughtful, as in full of thoughts. Also, sometimes and often not for the best, lost in thought. As in, well, lost.

 One might ask—I am asking—where is the room for thoughts about right now. Or, perhaps even more important, where is the room for no-thought?

 No thoughts. Without thought. Thoughtless. But doesn’t “thoughtless” mean uncaring, insensitive, selfish, unkind? Why can’t it mean a brain at rest, a brain at peace, a brain just, 'ya know, being there.

 We give our bodies rest. Our bodies crave rest. When do we give our brains a rest? No, not when we sleep. The dream state is arguably even more vibrantly full of thoughts and images, connections and insights than the waking state. But don’t our brains “deserve” at least the same care as our bodies? Don’t they need to rest?

 Yes.

 Meditators can achieve this restful, thoughtless, empty state. Some of us, by focusing on the in-breath and the out-breath can get a glimpse of what that feels like. I get a glimpse—sometimes, even more than a glimpse—when I am alone in the woods.

 To the woods, then.

“And into the forest I go, to lose my mind and find my soul.”
― John Muir