Close your eyes and wake up

I sit, cross-legged on the couch, ear buds in place, and take a sip of coffee before resting in my posture and taking a deep breath.

For the longest time, I’d last maybe 5 minutes before the night watchman in my mind would leave his post and blow out the lantern.

I’d awaken, startled, not knowing how much time had gone by since losing consciousness. Sometimes, I’d actually wake myself snoring.

The whole ‘watch for thoughts to float by and let them go’ is a whole heck of a lot like counting sheep — something I did as a child to help me sleep (and which was very effective in doing so).

I’ve since changed it up. Now, instead of closing my eyes and falling asleep, I close my eyes and wake up.

This short period of time is work.

Instead of passively sitting on my couch and floating, as soon as my eyelids close, I mentally hop under the hood of my consciousness to soup that bad boy up.

I feel the Presence of my awareness. And I sit with it as it expands. And expands. And grows from my little perch on the sofa out the window, onto the street, and into my neighborhood before rocketing off in all directions to the ends of the universe.

I. Am.

I add intensity to this Presence. I can feel it in my toes.

This is the body shop of my consciousness. Unlike my car, instead of needing an alignment shift every few months, my soul could use one on the daily.

Ooh. Yep. I can feel I’m out of whack. When I think of thing X or situation Y, I can tell things just don’t line up. The engine of my soul is powering me in one direction, but the wheels are lined up towards the guardrail.

Fully aligned is what I’m after. This way, I can floor this beast knowing I have everything I need to fling myself straight down the highway with no interference or drag.

Once aligned, I can take a quick look at those thoughts floating by. However, instead of indifferently letting them pass, I’m playing the bouncer now. Any thought that seems drunk, obnoxious, rude, or outright aggressive — I’ll grab that punk by the collar and toss him out on the street.

As soon as his ass hits the sidewalk, I’m replacing it with a new thought. One that swims well with the others. One that’s cleaned up and attractive so as to bring other like-minded, well-dressed, and higher tipping thoughts in.

I can go on. Point is, these kinds of mental acrobatics are not for the meek. It’s meditation infused with imagination. I’m creating here. Not just sitting.

Wait. How many sheep is that again?

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Jonas writes short daily essays here at Higher Thoughts. To get them delivered straight to your inbox as soon as they’re live, click here.