A Meandering Mind

I’m finding it difficult to focus on just one thing this morning.  My mind seems to be going everywhere—from one subject and then another—in one direction and then another—from one thought to another.  I’ve tried to focus, to center-down, but to no avail.  A myriad of thoughts flood my mind, but concentration on any one of these thoughts escapes me.  Have you ever had this experience?  

This frustrating situation of a meandering mind reminds me of Nikos Kazantzakis’  Odyssey (A Modern Sequel) in which he describes the mind of his main character, Odysseus.  Here are a few of his creative words:  “Odysseus’ mind grew wings…in the twisting seashores of his mind…his mind brimmed with thought…his mind smiled…life winked in his mind like a small lightning flash…his mind juggled…his unguarded mind in sleep, [hunted] for dreams…compassion blurred his mind…he reined in his heart and brain and soothed his mind…he made his weak mind firm.”  The one passage I like most this morning and the one thing I wish I could do is,  “He shook his mind till his thoughts fell in place once more.”

Nothing is falling into place or coming into focus for me no matter how many times I have “shook my mind.” My mind “brims with thought,” but there are too many for me to settle on just one .  My mind “is juggled” and is filled with a myriad of “blurred” thoughts.  Like a meandering brook my thoughts flow, forming rapids and currents, eddying here and there, but not settling anywhere.  Woe is me! 

My meandering mind wanders to Leonard Cohen’s lyrics:  “Ring the bells that still can ring. Forget your perfect offering.  There is a crack in everything.  That’s how the light gets in.”  Then I think,   “Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter.”   My “mind smiled” and will smile the whole day long, after reading these words of Pope John Paul II,  “Do not abandon yourselves to despair.  We are the Easter people, and hallelujah is our song.”  But on and on my mind still goes meandering along its “twisting seashores,” but I am content for at least I know this morning that my mind is still working.  Whether it is sane or insane, sound or unsound, firm or weak, is yet to be seen.  I simply rejoice that I still have it—a mind, that is—a mind that smiles at itself.  Which brings to my mind Shakepeare’s words:  “With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come.”