It’s interesting how things become lodged in your brain. They crash land on the surface in a grand nose dive and they lay there in this crater that they’ve created in the most obnoxious way possible. Like a constant droning that you can’t tune out or a breeze that keeps blowing your hair into your eyes. You could be doing a million different things but you’re not really there. You put the arms and legs on autopilot and stepped out of the cockpit for a little sojourn down whatever yarn this thought is trying to spin.
It doesn’t matter how many times you flip it over either, every time there’s a heads and a tails. But somehow the more we play with it, the less clear it becomes what it is. It’s smoothed over by the constant massaging and suddenly its identifying marks have been polished clean and what you’re left with are far more questions than you started with. What even was this thought when it Apollo 11-ed into my life?
I have two philosophies when it comes to thoughts like these. Number one, some questions aren’t worth answering. Some things, you just don’t want to know. The answer will never bring you fulfillment, satisfaction, closure or happiness. In fact, it might go right ahead and shatter the dicey ice you’ve been standing on in the first place. Get off the frozen lake, walk far far away from it and don’t trouble yourself with what’s beneath it.
Number two, in all other cases, you probably already know the answer. The more you try to stare at a gem from a different angle, the more you see that the sun refracts differently through its many faceted sides, the less sure you are of your original perspective. But we always walk into a situation with a preference and all we end up doing is finding ways to talk ourselves out of it. In the pit of your stomach lies the truth in all things and you must feed it. Just stick with the answer you already know you’ll answer to. Save yourself the trouble of polishing a rock.