"Thoughts are like thieves who have wandered into an empty house." I heard this quote (proverb?) a few months ago and have incorporated it into my daily work routine ever since. In order for me to get started on the work of the day, and to actually maintain some semblance of productivity throughout, I’ve realized I need to address my thoughts first. So, before I begin my first task, I sit up straight and close my eyes. Imagine a very simple house sitting atop endless, rolling hills. Any concern or worry that’s troubling me, I allow to manifest in a physical form. Usually, this takes the form of a mean-mugging actor of some sort, often resembling Michael Shannon. While I believe the man himself to be good-hearted, that angular face is etched into my mind representing the darker sides of the human psyche. Don’t blame me. Blame his fantastic role selection. So, Michael Shannon, representing some hidden concern of mine, wanders up the hill and makes his way into the house, finding it completely devoid of furniture or distinguishing features. Of course, being a wandering thief and all, Shannon’s looking for something to steal. So he bangs against the walls, floorboards, ceiling, anything he can think of. Eventually, he realizes the effort is futile. He lets out a big sigh and heads back out the way he came, wandering down the hill. Some days, this practice only takes a couple minutes. Other days, the Shannons keep coming and even scuff up the walls or tear at the paint. But at the end of the period, if I have fully committed myself to the exercise, I realize my concerns are simply passing feelings, worth no more attention than a buzzing fly. It’s one thing to understand this on an abstract level, but another to fully digest it. I wish I didn’t have to do it every day, but I’m coming to realize it may simply be a necessity of mine, at least for the duration of this COVID era. For whatever reason, our (my) natural instinct when it comes to deep-seated anxieties is to run away, to hide, to pretend as if they don’t exist. This allows the Shannons of the world to grow, to run rampant in your blind spot, pulling strings, never allowing you to thrive. Instead, you must allow them to hit you full-throttle. Welcome them through the front door. Let them rip and tear and bang against the house with everything they have. At the end of the day, there is nothing they want that you can give them. They’ll have to learn that lesson over and over again, only to go wandering back down the hill, leaving you with an empty, calm house. So quiet you can hear the curtains billowing in the breeze.
And you can get back to work.
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