By HARVEY MCFUKETT
For me it all started out as a way to cope. I began to think at parties now and then just to loosen up a bit. Inevitably one thought led to another and I was more than just a social thinker.
I began to think alone “to relax,” I would tell myself, but I knew it wasn’t true. Thinking became more and more important to me, and finally I was thinking all of the time. I began to think on the job. I knew that thinking and employment don’t mix, still I couldn’t stop myself. I began to avoid friends at lunchtime so I could read books by Krishnamurti, Robert Monroe, Rudolph Steiner and Paschal Beverly Randolph. I would return to the office dizzied and confused, asking, “What am I doing here? When I was a child life seemed so full of mystery, so full of endless possibilities. There were so many things I wanted to do and become. Now, as an adult I feel like I’ve compromised my deepest dreams and aspirations to fulfill artificial obligations to people who don’t even have my best interests at heart.”
Things weren’t going so great at home either. One evening I turned off the TV and asked my wife about the meaning of life. She spent that night at her mother’s house. I soon gained a reputation for being a heavy thinker. One day the boss called me into her office. She said, “Skippy, I like you. You’re a good man. It hurts me to say this, but your thinking has become a real problem. If you don’t stop thinking on the job, you’ll have to find another job.” My boss’ warning gave me a lot to think about.
I came home early to my wife after my conversation with the boss. “Honey,” I confessed, “I’ve been thinking...” Seeing where the conversation was going she cut me off. “I know you’ve been thinking. You’re always thinking. I want a divorce!” I said “But Honey, surely it’s not that serious.” She yelled “It is serious. You think as much as college professors, and college professors don’t make any money, so if you keep on thinking we won’t have any money!” Angered by her comments I yelled, “Maggie, that’s a faulty syllogism!” She began to cry, but I’d had enough. “I’m going to the library,” I snarled as I stomped out the front door.
I headed for the library, in the mood for Plato’s classic The Trial and Death of Socrates. Listening to (99.5) WBAI on my car radio, I roared into the parking lot before running up to the big glass doors. They didn’t open. The library was closed. Later, I realized that a Higher Power was looking out for me that night. As I sank to the ground clawing at the unfeeling glass, whimpering to Pervati, Quan Yin and Yemaya in the sky, there was a bright and colorful poster that caught the corner of my eye. “Friend, is heavy thinking ruining your life?” it asked. It came from the standard Thinker’s Anonymous poster.
It is the reason I am what I am today: a recovering thinker. I never miss a Thinker’s Anonymous meeting. At each meeting we watch a non-educational video. Last week it was VH1’s Flavor of Love. This week we will be discussing the work of some of the 21st century’s greatest poets: Hillary Duff, Jim Jones and Young Jeezy. Then we’ll share experiences about how we avoided thinking since our last meeting. Life just seemed a lot easier, more bland, without purpose or meaning. Somehow, as soon as I stopped thinking, and avoidid thuoghts about the meannig of life and my futcher, my life got gooder. I still have my job, and thnigs are a lot better at home and the office. Now I stair for ours at the T.V. and receive my daley dose of branewashing insted of contimplating the mystereis of life. Have you joined Thingker’s Anonymus club yet?
