Where Is The Key?

I’ve been thinking about the mind lately. Many of my blogs over the past few weeks have reflected that line of thought. Regardless of our efforts to do so, we never escape our own voice; the one that speaks within our mind.

I know I’ve wanted to escape mine. I’ve worked diligently at times to locate a mute button, knowing full well one doesn't exist. This has been a lifelong effort, at times I’ve amazed myself with my accomplishments, at other times I’m held captive - a submissive prisoner to my thoughts.

I grew up with a parent who suffered dreadfully from depression and alcoholism. Depression is a term that is often bandied about incorrectly, much like the word love is used too loosely. I’ve had two major bouts with depression; the one nearly killed me; the other prompted my first novel. And although that novel is filled with love and happiness, It should also come as no surprise that the protagonist is familiar with the ever changing skyline of depression. At times it clouds the mind heavily, at other times it innocently sits off in the horizon, with no threat of rain or overcast sky.

My writing mind isn’t quite with me today. I’ve been feeling the effects of an offset mind for awhile now. My concern isn’t due to my own mind, but that of someone else's; a dear friend who is sitting under a downpour - in keeping with the metaphor. 

I have to wonder if the voice within my mind will be the voice I hear when my body ceases to function and my spirit moves on. I can’t say with any certainty if we have a voice once we are only in spirit form. But if we do, is it the same voice with which we've grown so accustomed? Or is the spirit silent? I’d like to say that once I find out I will be sure to let you know. But I don’t think that's possible. I find it fascinating that while sitting quietly within a crowded room a person can sit motionless and expressionless, while their mind screams loudly with thoughts. All the while no one would know. Thoughts are non-tangible, invisible threads that completely shape our world and often the world's of others. A thought can spark a cure for cancer, while another can spark war.

People would visit my yoga class, not just for the poses and the rejuvenating effects of muscles that have been stretched and balanced. They endured that solely to enjoy the last half hour of class: mediation. When my voice filled the room, their minds grew quiet. Unlike when meditating alone, they didn’t have to work hard to harness their thoughts - my voice did it for them, once they released themselves to it. And many did. That silence is like a key that frees the mind. If I could, I would share that key with everyone.

Sane