Imagine my surprise when I realized that they weren't really "my thoughts". For decades I just presumed that I controlled my own thoughts...but no...they have a will of their own.
There used to be a time that I truly owned my thoughts - at least I think it was true. I can barely remember that period between 4-8 years old. The grass was greener; the sky was bluer; bugs, dirt, football and cowboys were fascinating. It was a period when the most horrific thing on the planet was girls. Otherwise, I loved everything. If it could be taken apart, I took it apart. Most things went back together...sort of.
Everything was a discovery. Nothing was a judgment...except a disdain for bell peppers...and, of course, girls.
That's part of the reason I got caught by surprise. I wasn't aware that slowly my world was becoming "just another bug", "just another toaster", "just another beautiful sunset", "just another day."
As I started taking my old world for granted, girls had somehow magically started to transform into the most amazing and confusing thing on the planet.
Discovery and fascination with the world narrowed to concern about perceptions; to taking up the role of "being fascinating" so the world would "look at me"...and be impressed. And, on the occasion when the world did notice my show, to cower in that spotlight.
This show played for years. Occasionally, you can still catch a rerun.
The reruns look dated...even to me. Many times now I switch them off before they get going. Rarely do I reach the credits.
Awareness of the moss on the tree, the daffodils about to bust through their protective shell, frost on the ground, a clear sky, and the discovery of discovery bring me a gift...and a smile.