You are not your thoughts

There was a part of me that knew I was an overthinker. But another part of me couldn’t comprehend being any other way. I’d always associated thinking with intelligence. After all, everything I knew about myself and the world came from my thoughts. If I were to slow down my thinking, wouldn’t I just become dumb?

I also found ruminating seductive; it gave me the illusory power to prepare myself for the future and to make sense of the past. Although, in reality, this just meant that I would run through hypothetical conversations in my mind before speaking to someone and afterwards review everything I’d said – often cringing.

When I wasn’t doing that, I was thinking about whether I liked certain music or food. I was thinking about what I was going to do with my life. I was thinking about why someone was upset and whether I might have caused it. I was thinking about why I felt so anxious and depressed. I was thinking about what life would be like if only some external factor would change.

“There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so.” - SHAKESPEARE

It never occurred to me to think about where my thoughts were coming from. As far as I was concerned, the stream of consciousness in my mind was me. And while there were times that I wasn’t thinking, I only noticed these moments when they were interrupted by a new thought.

Things started to change after I began meditating consistently, but it took me a long time to establish a routine. If I was feeling anxious, the idea of sitting down for ten minutes with my thoughts was excruciating. Instead, I would find a distraction or tell myself that I didn’t have the time. So for years I was only meditating if I felt calm and relaxed, which is a bit like taking medicine when you already feel good.

In my mid-twenties, I decided to commit to a daily practice. So I told myself that I wouldn’t meditate. I would just sit down for just a couple minutes every day and see what happens. I wanted to take the pressure off – the label of meditation evoked images of calm serenity and when I didn’t achieve that state I felt like a failure.

“Meditation is neither holding on nor letting go. It is not a trance. It is getting to know the patterns of your mind, the energy and its flow, and going with it rather than against it.” - CHÖGYAM TRUNGPA

Surprisingly, this approach worked and I was gradually able to increase my sessions to twenty minutes. It was similar to the advice I’d heard about creating a routine for working out: just get yourself to the gym and don’t even worry about doing any exercise. Showing up is what counts.

With time, the space around my thoughts grew bigger. And the thoughts themselves became more distinct. They passed by like clouds and the sky behind them opened up. I realised I am not my thoughts; my true nature had been obscured this entire time.

As modern human beings, all of our senses have been tuned to the external world. We see, taste, feel, hear and touch. But we do not sense within. We do not listen to our beating heart or feel the electricity in the soles of our feet. And we do not recognise that thought is our sixth sense. Meditation allows us to turn inwards so that we can experience this.

Today, thoughts arise in mind but I watch as they pass by. Well… sometimes. I can still get caught up in them but I catch myself much quicker now (I’m only human, after all). The sky comes in glimpses but these moments are getting longer. I’m learning to live in the moment, not in the mind.