…I keep telling myself. Or to get to the point, stop thinking so much, okay? Put down the tangled twine of the world and stop unraveling. Sheesh.
Just one of my goals, and yes. I’m going to have some, just because I feel like it. Just because they are entertaining diversions. Just because I’ve defied them for so long due to an allergic reaction from my youth when I wrote pages of them and demanded that I accomplish every one. Which I pretty much did.
The first time this goal came to me, it was stated more politely.
Less Pondering, More Presence.
Aww. How nice is that? How poetic and zen. But really now, please, I get it.
I think far too much. I have too many discussions, often with invisible people about ideologies and philosophies on every topic under the sun. They state their case, and then I agree with the parts I agree with, and state my case too, and then we get into it. Usually while I’m cleaning the kitchen, rearranging piles of books strewn about the house, or attempting to make dinner. And then, between mental connections, I’ll run to my desk, write down epiphanies on the page, and try to remember what it was I was doing in real-time. Until the fire alarm reminds me.
It’s not that bad, usually, but I’ll be honest. I get bored with domesticity. Even Pinterest doesn’t hold my interest long because so much of it is about things. Stuff. I love stuff too, especially beautiful stuff that is useful, but I love philosophy, poetry, and people more. Real people. Live people. Important (to me) ideas about happiness, and inner peace, and love, and letting go, and whether goal-setting really fits into my inside-out understanding of life.
And you know what? I don’t care right now. I’m sure that sounds silly to most people to even argue the point, because after all, what could possibly be wrong with the Holy Grail of westernized goal-setting? I mean really? Of course if you were to ask me that question while I’m rearranging the pantry, I’d tell you. But since I’m considering the call to ponder less and be more present, I’ll leave you to ponder the debate yourself, while I attend to the soup on the stove, the music bouncing from the piano, and this little girl with her jumprope, asking me to play.