Mistaking the noise for me

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For a long time I thought the goal was to quiet my mind.

The harder I tried, the more tangled I became, until I couldn’t tell where the thinking ended and I began.

I kept assuming that if I could just slow it all down, I’d finally feel like myself.

It took me a while to notice the strangeness in that.

I was trying to find myself by getting rid of the thing I thought I was.

The thoughts haven’t slowed.

What changed is smaller. Quieter.

Sometimes, between two of them, there’s a pause I didn’t put there.

And in that pause, something is already here, watching the next thought arrive.

I’m not trying to stop the stream anymore.

I’m just less convinced I’m in it.