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Anthology: A Collections of Flowers by Shiva

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Her First Thought

Barbara stood next to me in the kitchen doing the dishes. She washed and I dried. I was in a serious relationship with the most intelligent woman I had ever met. Barbara and I spent hours playing Trivial Pursuit. She usually won. We spent intimate evenings in front of the fireplace discussing most anything under the sun. Our conversations formed a strong bond based on mutual trust and respect. Even the silences were wonderful. Most of all we cherished each others company.

As we continued working on the dishes, she had this thoughtful look come over her face. She looked at me and said, "I was almost twenty years old before I had my first thought."

My world stopped! The idea that this intelligent woman had no thoughts until she was twenty was totally out of the question. In fact, I was a minister in a church that based it's whole philosophy on the logical movement of thought.

"What do you mean?", I stammered.

She looked up at me and I could see that she was quite serious. This shook me even more.

"I'm serious you know. I was teaching a Hatha Yoga class at an army base, you know, as a way to stay fit and flexible, and I had my first thought."

She went back to doing her dishes.

I just stood there. The look on my face must have been quite funny. This made no sense! And yet she seemed quite serious!

"Explain what you mean," I implored.

She finished the last dish, dried her hands, poured herself a cup of coffee and sat down at the dinning table, looked at me and said, "I was teaching this Hatha Yoga class and there it was, my first thought! All my life I had borrowed other peoples thoughts thinking them to be my own or I had modified their thoughts through my personality, but none of them were really mine, I didn't know this until I had my first thought. I can't explain how strange it was to have my very own thought. Not a borrowed one or an implanted one. A thought of my very own!

She had a smile at the memory and sipped her coffee.

I was still shaken by the implications. I tried to argue with her, but I could see that I was only defending my old point of view. I told her that I would have to think about this and went for a walk.

Grants Pass was a little dry this time of year. The summer sun beat down as I walked between the blackberry bushes. I was really confused. As I continued to examine the concept of what Barbara had shared with me, I began to see that language, philosophy, morals, political views, religious and most any other string of thoughts that I thought were mine, had originated mostly from outside myself. The overpowering influence of television, schools, friends and family did not leave much room or time for me to have my own thoughts. As I looked at the way I was even putting this contemplation together, I could see the influence that my dad and a couple of teachers have had. I had borrowed their thoughts and patterns, modified them to structure my logic, I began to wonder if I had had any original thoughts of my own!

The only thought that might be considered as "My own" were those that happened during a deep spiritual awakening. I then understood why Barbara had her first thought teaching a Yoga class. I turned and ran back to my home on Allen Creek and burst into the door. "I see!"

She looked at me, smiled and said, "Would you like a fresh cup of coffee?"

 

   
       

 

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