My brain, which is pretty sure it’s the star of every show, likes to do gymnastics when it thinks I’m trying to ignore it. When I try to sleep or meditate or give the rest of my organs a chance to do their thing without the brain cracking the whip and jumping up and down for attention, it likes to jerk on the reins a bit and show us all who’s boss.
This is simply what it does. As someone said (my clever brain has no idea now where I heard it; if you know, please tell me), “the brain secretes thoughts like the stomach secretes acid.”
But sometimes I don’t want to be a hostage to the thought parade, just like I wouldn’t want to be hostage to an acid parade. I try to calm the brain down so that other things can happen.
It’s sneaky, though.
I’ll sit down to the piano at night for my pre-bedtime noodle, and it will be going really well. You can’t play fluidly while you are in conscious control of all ten of your fingers and your pedaling foot, so this means you have to let your body take over the flow.
It’s right when I notice I’m in a nice state of flow that my brain knocks on the door and says, “Ah, this is going well!”
Clang. Wrong notes. Lost place.
Then the brain tries to put the apple-cart right, micromanaging, and soon there are apples flying everywhere and I forgot how to count.
Still, thank you for your service, brain. You do a lot. Sometimes you can take a breather, though.
