Monkey Mind

Like most humanoids, I am burdened with what the Buddhists call the "monkey mind" -- the thoughts that swing from limb to limb, stopping only to scratch themselves, spit and howl. From the distant past to the unknowable future, my mind swings wildly through time, touching on dozens of ideas a minute, unharnessed and undisciplined. This in itself is not necessarily a problem; the problem is the emotional attachment that goes along with the thinking. Happy thoughts make me happy, but -- whoop! -- how quickly I swing again into obsessive worry, blowing the mood; and then it's the remembrance of an angry moment and I start to get hot and pissed off all over again; and then my mind decides it might be a good time to start feeling sorry for itself, and loneliness follows promptly. You are, after all, what you think. Your emotions are the slaves to your thoughts, and you are the slave to your emotions.

Elizabeth Gilbert, Eat, Pray, Love

So true. So true.

In the last five seconds, I've thought of anxiety over work assignments, my boyfriend's cat, running, and candy corn.

I wake up every morning after spending the latter part of the night (like, the last few hours in bed) alternately sleeping, dreaming, and thinking about every random thing possible to think about. Why Jennifer Connelly was so thin when she won the Oscar. Why Jennifer Connelly won the Oscar. Why I didn't recognize anyone on Saturday Night Live this past weekend except for Amy Poehler and why I had never heard of the musical guest. Why the song "Chasing Cars" makes me cry sometimes. Why my butt is so flabby. Whether our hotel in Cancun will be a rip-off. What in the world is my older brother doing with his life. Is my sister okay. What is my little brother going to do when he graduates from college. Are my parents sick of pet-sitting every other weekend. Are my pets going to be poisoned by the chemicals the exterminator sprayed this morning. Was I wrong to hire an exterminator for the first time since living in my house for 5.5 years because I was so utterly freaked by seeing a baby roach crawling over my dish rack on the kitchen counter and was it wasteful to promptly throw said dish rack away. Are the puppies next-door okay. Why waste time making homemade cookies when store-bought cookies are so good. How lazy Americans are to have moved past the brainless ease of slice-and-bake cookies to now have provided for them refrigerated cookies already shaped and simply broken apart and baked but God those cookies are so good aren't they. Whether I'm flossing correctly. Is the amount of dust and pet hair under my beds and furniture unhealthy. Are my dogs happy. Are my cats happy. Is there already mildew growing underneath my new bathtub caulking job. How can Alan Chambers believe what he does. Are the places the dogs have chewed off the house going to make my house rot from the outside in. Are the broken places along the fascia where I never caulked after the hurricane filled with mold that is going to eat my house and poison me. Will I ever get to replacing my shitty, shitty, shoddy sliding glass door or will it take Zuko finally breaking it down. Do dogs pee on my newspaper on their morning walks before I pick it up in the morning. If there is a God, am I going to hell. Is there a God. Is North Korea going to be the end of the world. Will the war ever end. Will I finish the half-marathon. Will the Democrats take Congress.

Tonight I went on a 2.25-mile run through my neighborhood. The high points were Roddy McDowell singing "The Seven Deadly Virtues" from Camelot, Jerry Orbach singing "Be Our Guest" from Beauty and the Beast, and Rod the puppet singing "My Girlfriend Who Lives in Canada" from Avenue Q. And stopping to pick a needle of rosemary from someone's front yard and holding it to my nose during my cool-down walk to Mary Chapin Carpenter.

The quote on my calendar this month:

When you arise in the morning, think of what a privilege it is to be alive: to breathe, to think, to enjoy, to love. Marcus Aurelius

This is what I need to embrace when I arise in the morning. Instead of feeling weary and beaten down and unrested even if I do feel that way. Instead of feeling like I've just been through a battle with my sheets and my pillows and my mind. I am privileged. I am lucky. To breathe, to think, to enjoy, to love. To sing, to read, to write, to run. Every day started thinking that way will be a better day. I try. I hope.