Thinking is a thing
Thinking is a thing. Its own separate thing – crammed within the cracks between all the other “things.”
Thinking gets compressed, but it is limitlessly expansive. It can stretch as vast as the ocean, or tower as high as the stars. Thinking just needs the time to achieve its own bounds.
Thinking can be big. It can be as powerful as an atomic bomb. It can be as gentle as a violin. Thinking just needs the space to be whatever it is.
If your thinking is cast wide, it can sail the winds of your emotions. If it is furled, it will submit to stormy waters. Thinking just needs practice to master the seas.
But thinking is hard to see. It’s less urgent than an email, less mandatory than a meeting, less alarming than the 11 o’clock news, less menacing than political opponents.
Thinking is less demanding than your boss. It’s much quieter than your earbuds – more gentle than vibrate mode.
Thinking won’t openly ask of your time. You may not hear it, but it is always whispering.
It will collect clippings, and photos, and poems, and leave them in boxes astack in your attic – awaiting your next visit.
If you won’t answer its gentle call, thinking may think you’ve forgotten it.
You’ll forget to pick up the dry cleaning, you’ll write a terse email, you’ll feel sluggish about your work, you’ll make excuses for eating from the vending machine again.
Thinking needs space and time, and a place to be done. It needs candlelight and music and a glass of red wine. It needs majestic views and alone time. Thinking – needs to be thought of.
Thinking is a thing.