The Alchemy of Thought

If you're like me, and Jeebus help you if you are, you've wondered what exactly Rodin's "The Thinker" is pondering so diligently. Several options come to mind. Perhaps something along the lines of, "Goddamn my ass hurts from sitting on this tree stump for 106 years!", or, "Sakes alive, my hot muscly thighs could shatter a marble!". But I'd like to think he's ruminating over more philosophical matters, like the ones that have been churning through the muck of my own brain lately: "What is thought? Are thoughts, by their very nature, innately powerful things that shape our lives? Or are thoughts no more than mental pictures, only as potent as the roles we assign them? Or maybe God, in her infinite wisdom, foresaw the upward trajectory of movie ticket prices and decided to give each of us our own built-in megaplex? Or are thoughts not really esoteric images at all, but predestined and clearly mapped-out tangibles that were written long ago, before we ever slid from the womb and pooped in our Pampers?".

Yup, these are the kinds of thoughts that have been plaguing me as of late. Especially that poop-in-the-Pampers business. I mean, how were we ever able to do a #2 and then just happily SIT IN IT till someone bothered to change us? These are the big questions that Plato, Kant, and Ayn Rand totally missed.

As interesting as the topic of doody is for me, that's not what this post is about. I'm more interested in exploring the nature of this pesky Thought Business. It's really been tripping me up the last few weeks, and I need to get to the bottom of it.

But -- ACK! -- that's much easier said than done. Since the beginning of time people have been trying to get to the bottom of the Thought Business. It's an eternally baffling subject. The world's greatest religions, philosophers, scientists, and artists have contemplated it for centuries, and I daresay we're no closer to figuring it out now than we were when the Buddha took a seat under The Bodhi Tree.

In Buddhism, dealing mindfully with the Thought Business is the crux of the entire religion. The Buddha taught that if we skillfully, with great awareness and compassion, sit with our thoughts, note them, watch them, and then let them go, we will begin to experience freedom from suffering. This theory is one that appeals to me greatly, and is one that I try to explore in my everyday life. It is hugely, often frustratingly, challenging, but the small tastes of liberation you pick up here and there are enough to keep you going back for more. Contrary to what many think about Buddhism in general, and meditation in particular, the goal is not detachment. The goal is NON-attachment, which is quite different. Detachment implies a total cutting-off, a great ignoring of reality. Non-attachment can be defined as, quite simply, not clinging. With non-attachment, we see our thoughts, we take note of them, and we let them go with ease...because we are not attached, or clinging desperately, to them. We've allowed them. We've acknowledged them. We've said "buh-bye" to them.

Is this cold? Not at all. You see, what you're doing in meditation is forcing yourself to live in the moment, with just the thoughts in your head and the action of the world around you occurring this very instant. Using the skill of non-attachment, we relish the good times that much more because we are wonderfully awake for every moment. Similarly, we are able to be equally present for the bad times, as we know full well that they, too, shall pass.

From this perspective, one can make all sorts of positive changes. When you exist in and accept fully the reality of the moment, then the freedom to be a vessel for change is limitless. Here's a whacked-out example: In moment A, I experience a bit of hilarity and glee when Miss USA falls on her ass during the Miss Universe pageant; in moment B (an instant later), I feel badly for her because she's perky, and -- while watching perky people fall down is always fun -- she's probably suffering, even though that big plastic smile is rubber-cemented to her face; in moment C (another instant later), I think how much embarrassment it would save if Miss Universe passed a law stating that contestants cannot wear floor-length gowns for their own safety; this leads, in the next instant, to moment D, in which I decide to start a petition supporting just such an idea. Fast-forward to moment Z, and in next year's pageant, all the ladies are wearing sensible though classy pantsuits -- all except for Miss Vatican City, who refuses to wear pants for religious reasons. Instead, she wears a papal smock. You see the point I'm making with this. It's a silly example, I know, but hopefully my moral is not lost in the mirth of Miss USA's sore tuchus.

What I've learned from Buddhism is this: you are not your thoughts. Your thoughts are thoughts and you are you. How you respond to your thoughts, what you do with them -- this is what defines who you are.

Though my faith in Buddhism has not wavered, it's lately become impossible for me to put all of this into practice. For no other reason than both my brain and body are exhausted, and sitting quietly in any one place for more than a few minutes results in a deep, coma-like state. So this unfortunate fact has propelled me into further investigation down some much different roads in the Thought Business.

One road led me to an unexpected place, back to a book I read last year. Though I found the ideas in it no more helpful now than I did then, I was nonetheless reminded of them when examining the nature of thought. The book is called "The Secret". Most of you have probably heard of it. It's sold millions of copies and inspired everything from movies to more books to "exciting" new ways to start a business. The secret of "The Secret" is pretty simple and is the polar opposite of Buddhism. It teaches us to not just monitor our thoughts, but to control, manipulate, and shape them to create our own reality. OK, you're thinking, that doesn't sound too far-fetched. Ah, but let me continue. The entire lesson plan of "The Secret" was given to us by some chick whose name I forget -- and, quite frankly, I don't want to look it up because this chick-whose-name-I-can't-recall already has far too much money from these teachings and doesn't merit further publicity. Anyhow, she did not develop "The Secret" herself: they were channeled through her by some ancient sage named Abraham. Not the Abraham from the Bible, not Abraham Lincoln, and not Oscar-winning actor F. Murray Abraham. This Abraham was a prophet of some kind that lived centuries ago, and for whatever reason, he chose chick-whose-name-I-can't-recall to be the vessel for his teachings.

And these teachings, which the masses have flocked to and gobbled up, are so elementary that they border on the ridiculous. "The Secret" says that in order to get something we want, all we have to do is think about it. Meditate on it, imagine it, put it in a time-frame, and never stop clinging to that thought. And voilà! You will get whatever it is you want. In the same vein, you are instructed not to allow any bad thoughts in, not even the tiniest shred of doubt, because, according to "The Secret", these thoughts, intentions, and ideas have just as much power as the good ones. If you suppress your natural skeptical instinct and pretend it's not there, you will surely attain what you've always desired.

So I tried this last summer. I figured I had nothing to lose. I followed Abraham's directions and meditated on something I really wanted. I imagined $10,000 in my checking account by the first of the following month; I put so much power and energy into this thought that by the end of my daily meditations, I was salivating and giddy with anticipation. Well, I don't need to tell you that the $10K never showed up in my checking account. Despite my month-long meditation practice, despite my desperate desire to believe in "The Secret", and, for all intents and purposes, despite my better judgment (but, in keeping with the rules, I did not allow this last thought to enter my thinking). So if you see $10,000 laying around, please send it to me. It's mine. Abraham said I could have it.

Remembering this experience took me down another road in the Thought Business. I read last week that Randy Pausch, the computer science professor made famous for his speech (and subsequent book) "The Last Lecture", died from cancer. Dr. Pausch knew he was dying when he gave his final lecture, called "Really Achieving Your Childhood Dreams", which is a big part of the reason so many millions have been inspired by it. He was a great speaker/speechwriter, and in "The Last Lecture", he avoids the morbid and sentimental, has a warm sense of humor, and just seems like an all-around good egg. I watched the entire speech on YouTube (see link above), and while I was touched, I was not necessarily inspired.

I don't really want to say a lot about this, out of respect for Dr. Pausch's legacy and the hoards of people he has inspired. Far be it for me to judge what someone else finds inspirational and utilizes to motivate major positive change. But I will say this. In his lecture, Dr. Pausch expounds on the idea that all of our childhood thoughts and dreams are attainable. Some may need tweaking or modifying, but all in all, they can be easily reached with diligence and hard work. This is a really comforting theory, if not overly simplistic. I mean, of course it's relatively easy for someone who had an idyllic childhood, a perfect family, a genius IQ, opportunities offered him at every step, early tenure in his professorial career, and loads of money and esteem. Of course it's easy for someone like that to achieve his childhood dreams.

Talk to the African-American single mother of four kids (who herself was raised by an African-American single mother), who works three jobs, none of which pay the bills, who lives in a studio apartment in the roughest section of town because it's the only place she can afford, but who makes too much money from those three minimum-wage jobs to qualify for food stamps or public assistance, who would love to go to college but when the hell is she going to find the time?, and who prays every day that her children make it home from school without being shot. Yeah, ask her how easy it is for her to attain her childhood dreams.

I'm not trying to sound bitchy here. I just have to acknowledge the fact that Dr. Pausch's words and experience, while nice and motivational and quotable, are not indicative of what life is like for many of us. Thoughts that drive us when we are young are not always feasible once we grow old. When I was a kid, my thoughts revolved around being Joan Collins, becoming an actor and winning an Oscar before the age of 30. Well, I'm now 31, and, while my Alexis Carrington phase is thankfully over, why do I still not have my acting career or my Oscar? Because I need to eat.

Yet another road in my thought investigation came in the form of "The Alchemist" by Paulo Coelho. After reading the life-changing "Veronika Decides to Die", I figured "The Alchemist" -- Coelho's seminal work -- should be next on my list. Though I enjoyed the book, it didn't come close to doing what "Veronika" did for me. This is due in large part to the fact that Veronika's story was an intimate and personal exploration of the hidden mores of society, while "The Alchemist" was a great big readable fable, grand in scope and large in ideas.

What "The Alchemist" teaches is that all of our thoughts, all of our dreams, all of our lives, have already been written. It is translated into the word Maktub, or "It is written". We are told that when we possess certain thoughts and ideas about who we are and what we want in life, the energy of the entire world is already constantly working with us to make those thoughts and ideas a reality. We may not realize it, but it's happening nonetheless. This implies there is some Grand Plan here, a blueprint for our lives that existed long before we did, and the only thing we have to do is tune into our thoughts and dreams. But this, too, is overly simplistic. It's kind and comforting, yes, but is it realistic? I mean, when I cross the street at a pedestrian intersection, with the "WALK" light illuminated, and still nearly get flattened by some douchebag in a suit driving his SUV while talking on a cell phone, I have a really hard time believing this world is working in collusion with me to make my fondest thoughts and dreams come true. I know I'm a pessimist, but I just can't give the world that much credit. This place in which we all live can be pretty ugly. And if what "The Alchemist" teaches is true, do I really even want what a world such as ours is going to spit up at me?

The most satisfying answer I have received on my quest for the true essence of the Thought Business came from an unlikely source. I recently read a collection of essays entitled, appropriately enough, "Magical Thinking", written by Augusten Burroughs. Now I adore Augusten Burroughs. I want to have his babies. Not his actual babies, of course; he has a longtime partner who seems to be a very, very nice guy. But I want to have Augusten's theoretical babies. You see, in the title essay from "Magical Thinking", Burroughs has given me the most understandable insight into the nature of thought.

Burroughs proclaims that in order to work with your thoughts and reach your goals, you don't sit and watch your thoughts, you don't manipulate them, you don't give them more credence and realism than they deserve, and you don't view them as unalterable. Instead, you control the WORLD with your thoughts. This is all tongue-in-cheek, of course, but there is undeniable sense to it. He writes,

"I believe in the baby Jesus. And I believe he is handsome and lives in the sky with his pet cow. I believe that it is essential the cow like you. And if you pet the cow with your mind, it will lick your hand and give you cash. But if you make the cow angry, it will turn away from you, forget you exist, and your life will fall into shambles. I believe that as long as the cow likes you, you can get what you want."

Later, Burroughs advises a friend who is down on his luck:

"Either you've made the baby Jesus mad or his pet cow hates you....You need to conjure images of a cow in a field of green, munching grass. Then you need to reach out and scratch between his ears."

In this hilarious vision, what Burroughs is saying is that the cow allows us favors if we're nice to him. And these favors consist of the cow letting us use our own thoughts to control the world. In another example, he tells of an absolute bitch-on-wheels of a boss he once had, whom he wished would get run over by a bus. A short time later, after he'd left that job, she died of an aneurism. "That's even better than a bus," Burroughs muses.

So maybe I'm going about this all wrong. Maybe the key to the Thought Business is actually less of a looking-inward and more of a peering-out. Maybe it's all about focusing on the world -- this dark, icky place -- and molding it to my thoughts. If Augusten Burroughs can kill some raging hag with only his thoughts, then surely I can get a book published that makes me millions of dollars....

There. I just put that out there. Now I will control this awful world to fit that thought.

And maybe Rodin's "The Thinker" isn't reflecting on the nature of thought at all. Maybe he's just wondering about the location of the nearest cow pasture.