Thoughtless
God and I were out walking the other day, but we weren’t really talking, because I was wrapped up in my head cogitating on some deep thought or other. I can’t really tell you how deep the thoughts were because I lost them.
I lost them? “Well, how?” you might ask. I say it was God’s fault, she says she was just being polite. Okay, let me be a little more clear. We were coming to a door, a door that we needed to go through. God opened the door and then held it for me as I went through. And that was it. Well, maybe not all of it. See, I was raised to be polite. That means that I hold doors open for people and stuff. It also means that when people hold doors open for me, I know enough to do the polite thing, to look at them and say “Thank you.”
What I don’t know how to do, apparently, is to keep my deep train of thought while I look at and say “Thank you,” to the kind and polite soul holding the door open for me.
So I lost my train of thought, and will never again get back the exact same state of mind. Maybe I was on the road to solving one of life’s conundrums, maybe I was on the verge of knowing the perfect way to combine beer and sausage, who knows.
So I said my thanks, and then complained to God that I had completely lost my train of thought, that my deep thoughts were gone. She looked at me and said maybe I should take a look back at the stuff I’ve been writing lately. She pointed out that for me deep thoughts are a lot like 3D movies, the depth is mostly just an illusion.
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