I desperately wanted to answer a bizarre or funny question from one of my readers today, but there’s a tiny problem:

I don’t have one.

(This is an excuse for you to send me your weirdest, most random question. The kind you assume I cannot or will not answer. I dare you!)

But here’s the question I wish someone had asked:

Have you ever stopped to think…..and forgot to start again?

At first thought, it’s a cheeky, dumb question.
But on second thought, it’s a portal.

My mind runs so much non-stop thinking on autopilot that the idea of forgetting to start thinking feels almost impossible. Unthinkable, even.

Except it’s not.

Because if I can think it (and here I am thinking it) then I’m already imagining it.

What would it actually be like to stop thinking and forget to start again?

As unlikely as it may seem, it is imaginable. Maybe even closer than we think.

Most days, my thinking drifts in and out like weather. Only there’s no weather report to give me a forecast of what’s coming. Sometimes I get blue skies with fluffy clouds that look like kittens. Other times, it’s face-smacking sideways pelting hail.

But something cool happened this weekend during the Awakeners training with Michael Neill.

I stopped thinking. Or at least I slowed down enough to notice the quiet.

One moment in particular stands out.

I was livestreaming from Portugal, and when we wrapped up it was 1 am – that’s way past my bedtime. Normally I’d slam the laptop shut and leap into bed.

But I was sitting in a lovely feeling, not thinking much of anything, when the closing song came on, “A Thousand Years” by Christina Perri.

So I stayed and watched the room.

Michael Neill took off his microphone and skip-danced like a child.

One pair waltzed around the room, laughing.

People lay on the floor with blissed-out grins. Others were hugging and saying goodbye.

On zoom, I had a window into the room and I could see other faces lingering with me, smiling and watching, as the chorus played: I have loved you for a thousand years. I’ll love you for a thousand more.

And everything I was, every thought about myself, just dissolved into this one, perfect moment.

And it felt like pure love.

It was glorious. I can still feel the warmth of it now.

Earlier in the training, we’d been talking about insecure thinking, the voice we all know too well. We’d started calling it Geoff.

Geoff tells me my partner is being annoying and he should stop talking while I type.
Geoff says this email is crap and no one’s going to read it.
Geoff narrates life like he’s always having a Very Bad Day.

We spent some time spotting Geoff’s voice, laughing about how ridiculous and unhelpful it is to have all that damn Geoff thinking.

“There’s Geoff again!”

Afterwards, one of the participants remarked on how Geoff was almost cute. They wondered if we could even love our insecure thinking.

And Michael said something that made me pause:

“Yes, we can absolutely love our insecure thinking. But it gets even better. What if Geoff became unthinkable? What if the entirety of human consciousness were unpolluted by insecure thinking?”

I’d never imagined life without insecure thinking. Not taking it seriously, sure. But a world where it disappeared completely?

Unimaginable.

Except, here we are, imagining it.

A world with no Geoff.
No doubt.
No fear.
No lack.

What remains?

Love. Pure love.

So, yeah. It’s a strange question to contemplate whether I might stop to think one day and never start up again. But it’s also lovely, and maybe even possible.

What do you wish would become unthinkable?

Yours in love and play,

Steph

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