I Am Not My Thoughts; I Just Think I Am

Beyond the mind, there is a place of deep silence. Cross the borders of the mechanical crankings of thought and enter there. See if you can stay longer than a few seconds. The monkeys guarding the gate know that you are apt to leave silence and become them. They know the score.

Once you are a monkey, you go ape. You swing through the jungle of your wild emotions and scattershot thoughts  like it would do you any good. And your eye is on the silence, you will return there any moment now. There is a nice ripe banana that is distracting you. But you will return to silence after that.

Comes the day when the pain of thought is cracking your heart wide open. It may be a disgrace, a shame or a loss. Never mind what it is; it is the event that causes you to make a vow to cross the border once again.

The silence says nothing about your return. It offers itself to you with generosity and you say a silent prayer. This is your home, your essence, your grace. Perhaps it knows how you meant to return, how you suffered when you thought you were your thoughts. But it says nothing. What happens in silence stays in silence.