Sometimes, I feel I can talk about anything. Pick a word or a phrase and I'm off and running, discovering as I talk the way one thing leads to another and, if I keep the chain going long enough, coming to something interesting.
There are other times when I feel I have nothing to say at all. My mind is blank and I lack the energy to focus it in on anything. I'm in the fog. I sense that words, images, ideas are flowing through but I barely catch any of it. That's the purpose of the fog; it keeps me in that strange state between focused thought and a constant flow of undifferentiated consciousness.
I think of being in the fog as time-wasting even though I know how productive it can be. My subconscious is churning and occasionally I catch a word or image that releases the energy I need to think about it. I begin talking to myself and one thing leads to another. When that happens, I can feel my insides sitting up, becoming alert. I come out of the fog into clarity. They are each other's flip side.
But I can't rely on the occasional nugget in the fog. If I want to get anything done, I have to purposely focus. That focusing is coming into the moment; it's simply being present, aware of being present. So much of that state is about doing, as if sharpening my thoughts, reaching for clarity brings out the desire in me to act, to think or do something concrete, substantial, an act of mind or body that leads me forward toward something productive.
I let myself slip too easily into the fog. It's an old habit that I'll only break if I practice coming into the present and focusing, through meditation, but also just by looking at the things in front of me, my laptop, my fingers pressing on the keys. That reminds me of QWERTY and the fact that I actually took a typing course in high school and how my parents said I didn't have to go to college - I could go to secretarial school instead, and that was typical of them - not understanding who I was and what I wanted. And how much of a hindrance that was and still is. And...And...And.
One thing always leads to another.
What I like best is when my mind focuses in on an idea, a question, something, anything in particular. My mind wants to be engaged by something that takes me out of myself, out of one level of consciousness and into another. My thoughts can just meander, setting their own path, one following another. You could call it zoning out and that's a level of consciousness in which my mind is almost asleep, a computer whose screen is dark even though energy is feeding into it, keeping track of time or emails. Functioning but on the lowest possible setting.
Other times, my thoughts settle in and my mind comes awake. Everything in me sits up, alert and on the hunt. My thoughts don't want to meander - they want an object, a challenge, to follow an interesting trail, to create in words. Someone who studies consciousness may describe it another way, but to me it feels like becoming conscious on a very high level.
Despite having experienced many many times my mind coming awake, I still sometimes choose to zone out, to not think about anything in particular. To turn off my mind. But it's a paradox that taking time off to laze around doesn't replenish my energy; instead, it's enervating and has its own kind of perverse momentum, stretching itself out and flattening experience.
Choosing more often to focus my thoughts can become a habit - if I practice making that choice. I can ask the universe to help me be willing to make that practice day after day. I can make a new choice, the one that will always bring me awake and alive with energy.
Every morning, I make myself two hard boiled eggs. When I peel the shell, I see a thin membrane and if I catch that membrane the shell peels off easily. If I don't catch it, the egg winds up with gouges and they're in the white which I particularly like.
There are some people who seem to always catch the membrane. Their lives, at least from the outside, look smooth. They have success, money, a solid, long term relationship, children; they look like they've done everything right and been very lucky.
There are other people and I'm one of the one. Sometimes I catch the membrane and things go very right; sometimes I make a mess of things and things go very wrong. But, despite appearances, I don't think anyone gets out of this life without some gouges and bruises, without some suffering, loss and regrets. It's the way of the world, part of the human condition.
All I can do is be careful and pay attention. I can let the eggs cool enough for the membrane to contract. I can crack the shell at the bottom, where there's an air pocket, and with just enough force to avoid the shell itself digging into the eggs. Then I can take care when I begin peeling so that I don't use too much pressure. If I do all that, the shell comes off easily and I get to enjoy the egg.
Catching the membrane isn't rocket science. It just takes reminding myself to pay attention, focus and have patience.
