Think What You Believe

 

I woke up with monkey mind the other day. You know, the incessant internal chattering that starts ahead of the alarm going off? Or, on a weekend, when you’re trying to sleep in but can’t because you’re suddenly stressing about your next dental appointment ... in eight weeks?

It’s no wonder I’m not a morning person. My mind knows it can catch me in the dream space before I’m fully awake. So much for those magical seventeen seconds when everything is neutral! If I’m not with it right out of the gate—and I’m generally not—poor Ter is invariably clubbed with a grouchy Ru at morning tea.

That bugs me more than it bugs me. Ter doesn’t deserve to have me rain on her peaceful morning routine. She’s usually (always) up before me, and her welcoming smile is easily dimmed when she asks how I’m doing and I growl at her.

So when it happened the other day, I did not blame her for escaping into the shower as soon as she felt was polite. She assured me later that she’d just wanted to get her day started, and maybe that’s true, but I also know she was giving me space to get my act together.

Which I did. I had to. I was driving myself nuts, too. I’m unhappy being unhappy, especially when there’s no cause for it. I mean, really. Stressing first thing about a dental appointment that won’t happen for another two months? Clearly, I had no immediate reason to be upset that morning, so monkey mind went looking for something. First I growled at Ter, then I told her why I was crabby—she probably bolted for the shower to keep me from seeing her eye roll.

Anyway, as I sat there stewing, my little voice said quite clearly: “Think what you believe.”

What?

“You know that saying, ‘you don’t have to believe everything you think’? Well, flip it. Think what you believe.”

I actually blanked out for a minute. Then I considered what I believe. Starting with gratitude, of course. Yeah, gratitude: for Ter, for my loving, friendly and generous Universe, who always wants the best for me and ensures I have everything I need plus a million dollars more (still waiting on that million, incidentally) for miracles and magic and ... you get the idea.

And darned if monkey mind didn’t go, “Sod this; I’m outta here.”

Simply trying to ignore my mind is often like trying to calm a toddler in full tan-tan mode: it just cranks up the volume on the screaming. If, however, I focus on something else, something of my conscious choosing, the toddler sees me walking away and consequently shuts up. I’m fortunate in believing the glass is half-full, so it’s easy to think what I believe ... once I am reminded to do it!

Even then, if I don’t like what I believe, I have the power to change that as well. Monkey mind is relentless; it might be quiet for now, but it’s not gone by any means. It’s lying in the weeds, waiting to pounce before I’m fully awake.

When it does, I’ll be ready.