Theatre Of The Mind.

“Theatre of the mind” was an interesting turn of phrase. The counselor threw it out there as a place in which to change inner conversations. I started seeing thoughts as characters choreographed into a play, entering stage left, interacting with other thoughts, exiting a scene.

“All life’s a stage” according to Shakespeare. Now the stage is being coaxed to shrink into the infinity of my mind. Metaphor, sure, I like metaphors. The theatre behind the frontal cortex curtain ushers interaction of memory and history to compile new thoughts and prayers onto this string theory of neuron highways and cul-de-sacs.

What?

“I think, therefore I am” births into “I’ve been thinking, therefore I’ve been becoming.” There is literal moving of props and scenery thoughts into positions which set the next scene.

What? What?

My tendency is to think my way out of action. So many thoughts, so little do’s. Over thinking, some might say, and the stage gets cluttered and confusing. The plot gets crowded out, and meaning and purpose start acting out of character. Such a mess.

Sheesh.

So I begin again to grow up at the front end of this year. As much as I would rather have a bottle in front of me than a frontal lobotomy, neither choice would reset the stage nicely. A counselor will suffice, especially when he talks in interesting metaphors. The theatre of my mind can handle some flood lights and direction.

Romans 12:1,2