Internal Dialogue

Internal dialogue: 

there's a particular day I remember from my childhood, I recall sitting on a hill with a friend, enjoying the warmth and sun, without care or even thought to anything past this moment. It wasn't contentment, as that would involve a comparison of other moments, it was simply being joyful, alive, happy without any cause or reasons. I'm sure there were many such moments in my childhood, not having any true concerns or worries, innocent of internal dialogue to judge my world. 

just pure existence.

beingness. 

but what I remember most about this moment is the beginning of a process that was to be unrelenting for so many years after, a trigger pulled, and that somehow I would now possess a claim to every passing thought, my identity was born. It's a weirdly vivid memory, hearing a voice within my head and instantly claiming it as my own, that is who I am, and mostly, from that moment on, I believed myself to be the content of those thoughts, a certain innocence lost. I now possessed an internal dialogue, beliefs soon followed, stories told of how I wished the world would be, comparisons and judgement. Not instantly, all of this took time and developed through the course of years - but it all begin that moment of claiming a thought as my own, that first voice of a lasting dialogue. 

of course nothing really changed, beingness remained, there was always, only pure existence. Yet everything seemed different, there was truly an innocence lost, my world was now filled with commentary, not always bad, often comforting, but always with comparison as to how I thought everything should be, or with a wish for life to remain exactly to my comfort. 

my was life informed by this dialogue. 

and I believed most every thought. 

well, maybe not, because I remembered that moment the dialogue was born, more so, the innocence before remained with me, resurfaced from time to time, reminding me of that easiness of simply, joyfully being alive. That's what drew me to meditation, to self-inquiry, and a love for the deep silence of my nature. Nothing was ever really lost, just forgotten, misplaced by a lifetime of believing every passing thought as being truly my own. 

here's what's true - there is no actual thinker, no person separate from the world. There are thoughts, energy-clouds, passing through the blue sky nature of the mind. The internal dialogue happens, arising on its own, possessing no reality other than the story that it tells. It's not our voice, not really, and we don't need to believe it's every word, nor do anything to make it leave us. It's imaginary, a passing phantom, and once seen as so...

our innocence is remembered. 

~Peace, Eric