Last night, I took an exceptionally long shower.
That may not seem like a thing, but it was for me because I actually hate long showers. I never understood the whole shower thoughts bit either; you may not know this about me, but I get most of my good thinking done on the stair master (figures). I always make it a point to be in and out as efficiently as possible, so as soon as I’m clean I’m out.
Last night however, I was caught up in the enveloping warmth of the steam against my will. It wasn’t so much that I wanted to stay in the shower as much as it was my aversion to getting out of the shower. You know that awkward dance you do as you rush to dry off and freeze at the same time? – I just didn’t have the energy. On a cold winter night, after a 12-hour non-stop day, those few seconds of helpless vulnerability to the cold air seemed too much to bear.
The thought of me shivering uncomfortably and yet inevitably kept me pinned behind the shower curtain in my shockingly impenetrable fortress against the elements. I spent more time pumping myself up to get out, that by the time I got out, it wasn’t half as bad as I thought it would be. Honestly, I hadn’t even noticed because my brain was off to thinking about some other useless thing.
Then it hit me.
I have this peculiar way of making myself miserable, and for no reason at all. My mind is hopelessly always a step ahead of me and most of the time it’s not on my side.
My brain is forever picking, worrying and pondering about what’s next, how I will feel about it, and pondering some more about how to avoid it if at all possible. It’s not fair if you ask me – I didn’t even get the pleasure of thoroughly hating the misery I spend 15 minutes dreading. I’d like to, at the very least, experience life (whatever that looks like).
What does that say about everything else I’m missing?
The good, the bad, and the ugly – I spend way too much time thinking about it, judging it, then foolishly missing it in exchange for my undivided attention towards judging the next thing. Then, I have all these pre-conceived notions about what I like and don’t like with very little real-life evidence of the fact.
I’m becoming more and more convinced that I completely made it all up.
This incessant thinking is fine I suppose, we must have our brains for some good reason. But when does that get in the way of new experiences, opportunities, and relationships?
This brain of ours is very busy lying to us, confirming our lies, and adding to the lies we already believe. There’s a big part of us that’s all the same. It’s the part of us that just wants to be happy. It’s the part of us that doesn’t really wish ill on anybody. It’s the part of us that we see in children and it’s the part that gets buried under cultural expectations, job titles, bills and a family.
Who are you? If everything you can see, touch, categorize and judge was stripped away, what would be underneath it? What would that person really want out of life and how many ‘things’ does that person truly need to be happy?
What would your experience in life be if you listened to that person?
How would your relationships look if you spoke for that person?
How would you use your senses if you let that person out?
Life is in fact a box of chocolates, but if you’re just mindlessly eating as you wait for the bus, you’ll only truly experience the absolute best and/or worse life has to offer.
But the stories and the entire experience of life come from all the stuff in between.