It rises like smoke

This thought

And it chokes me

Like smoke

And I don’t even smoke

Anymore

But I do think

A lot

And that’s the same thing

Or so it would seem

*I’ve recently realised that thinking is an addiction. One that we scarcely know we have. The habits ingrained from a lifetime of behaving the same way, are hard to put down.

We never have to make ourselves stop thinking about something positive. Just wait, five minutes, seconds, and you’ll notice a wavering in the ether. A disturbance in the force, as Yoda would say.

Good, bad, it’s all the same, but negativity is the predominant thought train.

And so we have to reframe, and that can be tiring. First the emotional discord, then the noticing. Then the doing something about it. Reframing. Changing. Rearranging.

What if instead we simply realised that good, bad, it’s all the same thing – an unhealthy addiction to thinking, to dwelling in unreality, escapism. Which is all drugs, alcohol, porn, gambling, whatever the vice, whatever the vehicle, it’s all the same. Escapism. Distraction.

Yet the peaceful moment ticks on. And the opportunity to return to it is omnipresent. I find it comforting to know that no matter how long it takes me to realise, recall, and return. It doesn’t matter. Life is here, waiting for me. It’s been here all along.