There are many types and levels of thinking, but I imagine for most people, thinking is listening to a voice. I suppose everyone has at least one thinking voice.
I suspect most thinking voices are dull and dry. Monotone drones; no beginning or end. Coming from somewhere, going nowhere. Endless round-and-rounds. Too oblivious of the mark to pretend to miss it. Or maybe stones skipping perpetually on glassy water, for-ever skimming the surface . . . never penetrating.
Never sinking. Capable of surface, incapable of depth.
But most find even this superficial murmuring unbearable. Better to dissolve the drone in a kaleidoscopic cacophony of unthinking and let the graceless voices lull and tug until nothing remains but the sound of their lulling and tugging.
Much in-between, I'm sure, but even there it is voices – whispering, cajoling, threatening, enticing, obliterating – and it is to these voices that people have listened. It is these voices, people have followed. They are the voices that have brought nearly everyone to where they are now.
Yet somewhere within that vocal whirlpool sucking everyone into nowhere is a voice not listened. Not unheard, but not listened. Un-listened to.
A discernible, audible, distinct, and recognizable thinking voice -- shunned, ignored, exiled, cast aside. The drone and the cacophony have brought people to where they are. Where might they be if they had listened to the un-listened voice?
Chances are they would not be where they are. Chances are they would be in another place entirely. Chances are they would catch snippets of themselves – their true selves.
Chances are they would learn to think; and when they had learned to think well enough, the voice would fade into a silent knowing much louder than any thinking voice could ever be.
I suspect most thinking voices are dull and dry. Monotone drones; no beginning or end. Coming from somewhere, going nowhere. Endless round-and-rounds. Too oblivious of the mark to pretend to miss it. Or maybe stones skipping perpetually on glassy water, for-ever skimming the surface . . . never penetrating.
Never sinking. Capable of surface, incapable of depth.
But most find even this superficial murmuring unbearable. Better to dissolve the drone in a kaleidoscopic cacophony of unthinking and let the graceless voices lull and tug until nothing remains but the sound of their lulling and tugging.
Much in-between, I'm sure, but even there it is voices – whispering, cajoling, threatening, enticing, obliterating – and it is to these voices that people have listened. It is these voices, people have followed. They are the voices that have brought nearly everyone to where they are now.
Yet somewhere within that vocal whirlpool sucking everyone into nowhere is a voice not listened. Not unheard, but not listened. Un-listened to.
A discernible, audible, distinct, and recognizable thinking voice -- shunned, ignored, exiled, cast aside. The drone and the cacophony have brought people to where they are. Where might they be if they had listened to the un-listened voice?
Chances are they would not be where they are. Chances are they would be in another place entirely. Chances are they would catch snippets of themselves – their true selves.
Chances are they would learn to think; and when they had learned to think well enough, the voice would fade into a silent knowing much louder than any thinking voice could ever be.
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