The wheels of thought, though elastic, are hard as iron. They spin together like a great conflagration of metal and steam, pushing out new ideas faster than sausages. Each thought gives rise to new thoughts, each with its own children and cousins. These new thoughts percolate back through the system, achieving even grander results (at least sometimes).
This transformation of thought could be plotted on a graph, perhaps. The rate of change (or progress) is never constant.
Ah – but then again, these wheels once in full progress, can be hushed in an instant with any distraction as an excuse. That must be one hell of a braking system for those wheels.
Or, is it more like the process is ephemeral. Soap bubble analogies, anyone? No. Maybe not. Soap bubbles don’t do anything but burst after catching the sun for a brief moment on the breeze.
I used to be content waiting for thoughts to come. Much like fishing, only in an internal lake of the soul. I would wait for them to come, casting my line where I observed, or hoped to find, some clues bubbling to the surface.
Now I must go scuba diving to find my thoughts. They hide under ledges, obscured by seaweeds, hidden in caves of deeply troubled rocky facades, and protected by predator fishes.
I can see why so many people choose not to pursue thinking. They prefer to stand on shore and have their little social parties and watch the time go by, mindless that there is serious work that needs doing.
Ah – but then again, these wheels once in full progress, can be hushed in an instant with any distraction as an excuse. That must be one hell of a braking system for those wheels.
Or, is it more like the process is ephemeral. Soap bubble analogies, anyone? No. Maybe not. Soap bubbles don’t do anything but burst after catching the sun for a brief moment on the breeze.
I used to be content waiting for thoughts to come. Much like fishing, only in an internal lake of the soul. I would wait for them to come, casting my line where I observed, or hoped to find, some clues bubbling to the surface.
Now I must go scuba diving to find my thoughts. They hide under ledges, obscured by seaweeds, hidden in caves of deeply troubled rocky facades, and protected by predator fishes.
I can see why so many people choose not to pursue thinking. They prefer to stand on shore and have their little social parties and watch the time go by, mindless that there is serious work that needs doing.
