Whilst driving back to the city last weekend, on a stretch of still-mostly-rural road, we happened upon a meandering group of cattle dangerously near the highway who had discovered that the gate that usually enclosed them was now, well, miraculously not.
A very large, dark, slowly lumbering bovine was well within ten feet of passing automobiles, several of her compatriots close behind her at the moment we crossed paths, animal and human.
Looking through the rear window as long as I could, I envisioned how not pretty that scene could become, and quite soon.
Not unlike the havoc our thoughts can wreak, once the gates of our conscious focus have been compromised.
Thoughts are tricky like that.
We think them, and they seem to take on a life of their own, as if they were the ones running the show.
The locus of control does remain with us however.
It's our choice to allow them to run rampant, willy-nilly, hither and yon, bounding along the downtrodden trail they've enjoyed unbridled access to for decades.
We are equally capable of reigning them in, closing the gate, and requiring some obedience training skills be exercised.
It just seems impossible for us to envision thinking any other way about that thing, or that person, or that situation.
Or nearly so.
Some of us do still have a shred of hope left even after decades of implanting not so good results into our psyches, which makes nearly-impossible much more manageable than strictly-impossible.
When my nearly-impossible cows get loose in the world here in this little slice of heaven I'm simmering in lately, I pull out my thought chaperone tools and apply them liberally to myself until I slide ever so delightfully into, "Oh, it is so done," mode.
I'm beginning to enjoy the palpable sensation of relief so much that I almost look forward to enduring the contrast that brings it about.
Or nearly so.
There is of course the strategy of hanging out in the pasture rather than mulling over whether the gate is going to open or not.
Skip the middle man.
Recent Comments