After the work week, my thoughts are often filled with deadlines, commitments, and action items that I either completed this past week but am now second-guessing, or important matters that remain to be done during the next work week.  My mind is rarely at rest, or at peace, it seems.

This has been particularly true during the Covid-19 crisis, as my work and home environments have become one.  

In the halcyon days of February, I would consider it a treat and a much-needed mental health break to be able to sneak a Wednesday here and there to work from home, in order to return to my office the following day more refreshed and recharged.  It mostly worked, too.  Those stolen home-day Wednesdays were much looked forward to, and for the most part performed as intended.

Covid-19 and its accompanying restrictions and remote work changes, however, have transformed what was once a cherished special day into near drudgery.  I put on my work shirt (a formal tie no longer being required since my dogs don’t mind and it’s not needed for phone and computer work), walk the ten steps from my living room to my old roll top desk, and sit.  For hours. Often with nothing to distract my many racing thoughts, as there is no physical or  immediate visual interaction or presence with others for hours at a time. 

Our thoughts can be very helpful, but also be a very real hindrance.  While the physical dimensions of one’s brain are quite small, comparatively, our mind is simultaneously both the largest cavern and the most complicated maze.  It’s quite noisy in there, and the exit doesn’t appear to be very well placed.  Everywhere I turn, seeking an exit to a quiet place, it seems I often just find another noisy wall, stacked with post-it notes of more things to think about.

Many philosophers have pondered this quandary.  Do we have an existence apart from our thoughts, are we just our thoughts and nothing more, or is it a bit more complicated?  One of my favorite philosopher/authors is Eckhart Tolle, author of “The Power of Now”.  He attempts to answer this question by separating our undeniable fact of real and physical present existence, or of “being”, as existing separate from and not under the control of our thoughts, at least thoughts of past and future.  As he correctly notes, all we ever have and will have is happening right now.  Pain or pleasure, they only happen once, in real time, in their respective “Now”.  The past happened in a prior “Now” that no longer exists, and the future, if and when it takes place, will be in that future’s present “Now”.  Nothing to see here in today’s present.  According to Tolle, focusing and enjoying the remarkable fact that we exist, consisting of the same matter as present throughout the universe, is enough for contentment and peace. Allowing our thoughts to determine our existence, or being, is the true enemy.

Oh but if that were true, or, at the least, more possible to achieve than apparently I am able.  I’m afraid I am a much more flawed pupil than Mr. Tolle has in mind.  I relate more closely to the thoughts of the Psalmist David.  Not because I deserve to be compared to any revered person of scripture, for my frailties and faults are all too apparent.  No, I just find David’s take on thoughts as more realistic for me.

He struggled with them.

In Psalm 13, verse 2, David openly ponders and asks, as much to himself I believe as to God:  “How long must I wrestle with my thoughts, and day after day have sorrow in my heart.”  

Good stuff.  And very much a reality for him, and for me as well.

Our thoughts are inescapable.  They do indeed cause us very real pain.  To dismiss them, or attempt to separate them entirely from who we are, cannot be done.  And shouldn’t.  In fact, we would be the lesser for it.   My apologies to Mr. Tolle, for he makes a great read and enjoyable contemplation, but I do believe as with the psalmist that our thoughts, as well as our very real and physical struggles with them, add rather than detract from our essential being.  To exist, just now and in this moment, or a series of “just nows” or moments, is to lose the tapestry that makes us who we are.  Pull one thread from a hand-crafted quilt, place it in your palm, and attempt, without more, to describe or ascertain the nature of its existence.  Unrecognizable and inconsequential.  The smallest wisp of wind can send it on its way, leaving you with nothing. 

Keep it in the quilt however, and it has form, substance, warmth, and often, memories of the one who so thoughtfully crafted and brought it into existence.

We are flawed.  We possess and remember moments of great pain, but also great joy, from past experiences.   We also steadfastly look forward to future moments of great joy, and acknowledge, full well, that in this as yet undetermined future, there will also likely be moments of further pain.  We acknowledge and contemplate and ponder.  That’s who we are, how we were designed.  That is real existence, real life.

I’ll continue to take that trade.

The phone is ringing again.  Back to work.

Copyright 2020 by D. James Clark – all rights reserved