“At the heart of the new consciousness lies the transcendence of thought, the newfound ability of rising above thought, of realizing a dimension within yourself that is infinitely more vast than thought. You then no longer derive your identity, your sense of who you are, from the incessant stream of thinking that in the old consciousness you take to be yourself.” Eckhart Tolle (from The Power of Now).
Thought is like a train that runs on circular tracks through the mind, perhaps a circus train full of odd characters, clown shows, wild demon animals, and freaks.
Thought is like a revival tent where the same sermon goes on without end. Once I enter, I can’t get out.
Thought is an active volcano spewing smoke into the clear air. Rising out of the mind, the thought volcano constructs an island upon which I am confined.
Thought is a gladiator with net and trident that is constantly snaring and stabbing me.
Thought is the Tar Baby of Bre’ Rabbit: only the thorns of the briar patch will save me.
Thought is a worm squirming on a hook dangling in the ocean of awareness. Taking the bait, I am reeled in.
Thought is the Inquisition judge condemning me to torture until I confess my unknown sins.
Thought is a white board marker without an eraser.
The cars to this thought train never end. The engine I THINK I CAN is always going up a mountain. I am always the last thought added to the end.
Each car on the Through Train is full of emotion. When I jump from one car to get off, I add another to land on.
The engine I THINK I CAN tries to swallow its own caboose, thinking that will stop the train. Thought is the coal that drives the train.