“What was I thinking?” 

“What was I thinking?” 

I wish this question was easier to answer. 

I have spent years trying to get to know my own mind. As a child I was praised for my intellect, and I relied on thinking my way through every challenge I encountered. This worked until it didn’t, and I found myself drowning in anxiety and depression.

In my quest for wellness, I turned to mindfulness and meditation practices based on mounting evidence that meditation can help reduce stress, strengthen resilience, and build equanimity.

In mindfulness and meditation practices, we are invited to observe our thoughts and emotions without judgement. This is easier said than done, as anyone who actually tries meditation will quickly find out. But there is such peace in those moments of silence between thoughts that I finally committed to daily practice a few years ago.

I am grateful for what I have learned, though I hesitate to say I am anything more than a novice practitioner. I can observe my thoughts when I am sitting quietly, but what about in the moments, like right now? Can I observe my thoughts? Can I be aware of my thinking and be present when in the company of others?

Developing awareness of thoughts beyond the practice of meditation is a great challenge because we are caught up in stories we create about what is happening around us. Many of these stories are subconscious and powerful. When I was entering my darkest days, I knew my reactions to events around me were not equivalent to the triggers. I knew enough to see that there were reasons for my responses that lay below my conscious awareness.

What was I really thinking?

Seeking clarity and equanimity, I have discovered more about the relationship between my thoughts and my emotions, as well as why I find it so challenging to deal with difficult emotions. 

Many of us numb and distract and power-through our difficult emotions, waiting for them to go away (because they always do – until they don’t*). Thoughts trigger emotions, which then leads to actions (or reactions, when we are not consciously aware of what we are doing).

Joy Reichart of New Ventures West calls this unconscious mode a “structure of interpretation”: a kind of “bubble” of beliefs, perceptions, expectations, and ideas about conventions – what is acceptable and expected of us – formed during our childhood and largely unconscious in our adult lives, that underpins our realities.

We tend to think of reality as a set of facts that everyone can point to, but “reality” is created in the image of the perceiver. Consider how two people at the same event will recount such different “facts” that it might almost seem they were at different events.  Which account is more real? We all live in little bubbles of perception that we need to burst every now and then to get a bigger picture of what is going on. Our bubbles lead to great disconnection and divides. Our bubbles are often comfortable, until they aren’t*.

Through my studies and my experience, I’ve come to understand how my thinking, my beliefs, and my habits of mind underpin much more of my reality than I once believed possible.  And, if I want to change my reality, I need to change my mind much more than I need to change my circumstances.

Of course, I have come to accept the premise that yes, I can choose my thoughts. I can think differently. Perhaps because I worked years as a teacher I formed the core belief that we humans have the ability to choose what we think. I say that, knowing just how difficult it is to change the content and the manner in which we think.

 And so, attempts to better understand my own habits of mind and ways of being in the world have led me back to the question: what are my thoughts? More importantly, what are my subconscious thoughts, and how do I make them conscious? How are these thoughts shaping my reality? Are these thoughts serving me? Are they reflective of others’ reality? Can I choose to think and see things differently?

Perhaps most ironic in all that I’ve been learning is that we are better off learning to accept and appreciate what we have and who we are. Trying to change is a kind of rejection of what is. Change is hard work, but so is acceptance. In fact, acceptance may be harder. I cannot change my height or even (really) the heft of my thighs. I can learn to love what I have. I can learn to appreciate my health, even more so when I don’t feel so healthy, when I feel tired and sore.

That doesn’t mean change isn’t possible or necessary. In fact, change is inevitable. What it does mean is that we can direct changes within our control by learning how to change our mind. And changing our mind starts with becoming aware of what is in our mind in the first place.

Learning to lean in, listen, question, investigate, learn some more, and actually apply what we are learning – this is one way to create the life we want to live. Not by running away from that which is uncomfortable, uncertain, or unpleasant; not by repeating what we’ve done over and over again with the same results. Go with what has actually worked – making and testing incremental changes. Reflecting on results. Considering what is really within our power to change – and knowing it is almost always internal rather than external. Noticing what we notice, so we become aware of where we point our attention. This allows us to become more intentional about where we focus our energy and attention, redirecting our thoughts and actions toward what we want rather than what we don’t want.

And so: consider. What are my automatic ways of thinking? What are my conditioned patterns, habits? What was I thinking? What am I thinking?

 

*shout out to Kiese Laymon (@KieseLaymon) whose memoir Heavy featured this particular device: “which worked, until it didn’t” (or some echo thereof). His work is beyond beautiful – check it out.