I have a busy brain and one of the more challenging things for me to do is to meditate. In fact, concentrating on only one thing is a great enough challenge, never mind letting all thoughts go. My brain is a border collie, rounding up thoughts, nonsense, anything that seems to be going astray and should be neatly corralled instead, packed into the dense herd of all my other thoughts, all the snippets of songs, ideas, overheard conversations and philosophical thoughts that refuse to leave me. Many of my thoughts get repeated over and over the way a slightly damaged vinyl record might have way back in the dark ages when I was young. If this is inevitable, I prefer them to at least be interesting thoughts. I prefer them to be things I can somehow deal with by writing them down. If my brain is the border collie, then writing is its master.
I was making myself a meal. One of my latest regular meals is poached eggs atop some ham and cheese I have melted together under the broiler. I cracked three eggs into a small saucepan and since my brain is often narrating my activities it said to me, "three eggs." Then it said, "three little eggs" and then it got really fancy and said "three little eggs from school" and sang the words. This was fun. This needed repeating. Three little eggs from school, three little eggs from school, three little eggs from school...it didn't take too long before I was tired of that but would brain stop? No of course not. Master had to signal to the dog, change it up. "Three little maids from school, three little maids from school" This time it is sung in an accent that sounds like Anna from Downton Abbey with particular emphasis on the way she would say 'maids'. The meal was ready, the tea was poured and I sat down to eat. Anna, still singing in my head that same refrain, "three little maayhhds from school" I looked at my plate, took a sip of tea and the song changed, now a chorus of Von Trapp children singing "tea with ham and eggs, ham and eggs. Tea with ham, ham and eggs." I eat, I wonder vaguely when my brain is going to shut up or at least come up with something more interesting. I didn't get much sleep last night so I suppose I must be charitable. I must forgive my brain for being so uninspired.
I try to think of other things. I think of the sweet little cat who has just come to live with me this weekend. She is an older cat. She is twelve and has lived her whole life with my ex husband's step daughter. Changes in circumstances lead to her needing a new home. Changes in my circumstances lead to my missing a little furry bundle of love. It was meant to be. Her name is Matty. I already love her. How can I not? She is small and sweet and purrs like a jet engine. She comes to me tomorrow and I am certain that snuggling Matty will be like meditation, will calm down my brain, will probably help me stop petting my son's leg every time I see him. That sounds so much worse than it is, actually.
Matty and I need each other. We can sit together and think deep thoughts, as everyone knows all cats do.