Thinking is suffocating you
On impulse
I looked into your eyes and saw you unthinking. I saw aliveness like a rainforest. I saw you receive the moment without a thought. Unanalysed. Unscreened. Unmonitored. Isn’t that life at its most seductive? Unknowable and immediate. Life emerging through thick canopy and vine. Life that sways and dips and bursts and shatters.
Thinking is a protector and a crutch. Thinking guides, it doesn’t live. How have you thought breathlessness into a kiss? Thought thieves attention. Enjoying and being are just enjoying and being. There’s no space for narrative here.
Can you trust yourself enough to run? Do you need that watchful eye? There’s a moment to release right here. A threshold for shedding. Quietly nudge overseer, questioner, teacher and preacher into the back rooms. Let them slip you messages in the gentleness of a stranger.
Thinking-it-through removes danger. Thinking-it-through is biography. You observe and pluck and preen and decide how to deaden life into a story. These are calculating, measuring words. A way of pausing the wildness and safari of immersion. Of drowning into life. To let your mind play second fiddle to the whole being. To set aside narrative and thought for a moment. Isn’t God in there somewhere? The human being fully alive.
I think I glimpsed God in your look. I glimpsed immersion in living.