Thursday, April 20, 2017

Thinking About Thinking

I am thinking about thinking.

Thinking is not something I do a lot of. I am an emotional guy; emotions come at me in waves all the time. Doesn't matter if it is giddy happiness or dark depression and everything in between - emotions play a large part in who I am.

Emotions are anathema to thinking. You cannot think straight when you are feeling deeply.

Another roadblock to thinking for me is that deep down I believe life is a cruel joke. If you are not doing exactly what you were born to do, than your life is a joke. You bounce around like a beach ball in a strong wind, trying this, taking a shot at that, but there is no conviction because your soul gently whispers in your ear "What the fuck are you doing? This is not who you are".

My life is ironic to me because the way I live it is in total contrast to who I am and what I believe. So I watch it from the outside like a disinterested observer with a wry smile on my face.

The problem is that life just keeps coming at you. You have to work, gotta have money, gotta play the game to work and get money and it is all so relentless.

So a wry smile does not get you through.

Anyway..............the reason I am thinking about thinking is because of my cat Maka. Maka lives to be on our screened in porch, much like Carol and myself. She hungers for it. Every morning at some point she wanders over to the French doors, sits down and looks back over her shoulder at me.

Impossible to ignore.

Problem is, at this time of year the temperature can be 78 degrees on Monday and 41 degrees on Tuesday. And she is not going out on the porch when it is 41 degrees. She is not stupid.

Even though I am pretty sure I know on which days she will decide to go out and which she will decide to stay in, I still open the door for her. This is because I don't want her to think I am the mean old son of a bitch who refuses to let her out. This way, if she decides to stay in, it is her decision. Not mine.

On those days when it is too cold, when I open the door, she will sit down inside and have a look around. Sniffing, looking, feeling.

It fascinates me. Because she is thinking. Do I want to go out or do I want to crawl back in to the unbelievably warm and cushy bed that Carol and Joe so generously provide for me. She is taking in facts, weighing alternatives and arriving at a decision.

All through a purity of thought a human being could never achieve.

When I do manage to think, my thoughts are polluted with fear or self doubt, or sidetracked by other issues, or are unrealistic because of a powerful wave of uncharacteristic self confidence and belief in a wonderful future.

Maka does not deal with any of this. She is not thinking "Joe is such a fucking asshole". She is not thinking "I wonder what time Joe will get home tonight and what kind of mood he will be in". She is not thinking "I wish I had more money and people respected me more".

She is just thinking. Figuring out what she wants, how she feels, what the screened in porch has to offer her today, and then making a decision.

A great deal of time, money and effort is expended on studying the human brain. Trying to figure out what makes us tick. What a colossal waste.

Humans are fucked up. It is as simple as that.

If science wants to understand the true beauty of a brain it should focus on how an animal thinks. Because animal brains function independently from petty bullshit. Animals are instinctual and they do not watch reality TV.

I am trying to learn from both of my cats. Maka, who is somewhere around 11 or 12 years old, because I like the way her mind works. Lakota, who is 17 years old, because I like the way she handles aging.

But learning involves thinking. And thinking is challenging for me.

Maybe I should crawl around on all fours to get a different perspective. Radically shaking up my daily existence might blow holes through the fog in my mind. (Reminds me of when Jack Nicholson went through a nudist phase. He did it just to get a different perspective; a different feel. He refused to put clothes on in his own home no matter who showed up. Even his kids. Frightening image there.)

Instead of thinking about thinking, maybe I should just think.

Might give it a try.

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