Old potatoes out

I can’t see them with the naked eye but from early childhood on, I have known that they are there.

Old potatoes out


I can’t see them with the naked eye but from early childhood on, I have known that they are there. They shoot past me and through me, they sneak around or hide themselves. Their weird shapes fill my whole room. They are alive, I am sure. They are thought entities and their presence fills me with concern. What are they? Where do they come from and who controls them?

Some are like a bag of potatoes, with their greasy fabrications and there are also tall, pale ones that are patronising by nature. There are some that always remain just outside the edge of my consciousness, yet make me aware of their presence. There are vague essences, beautifully coloured, that do me good, but sometimes others jump on top of them and try to make me proud. Some flash past me, so that I can’t jump on their backs, while others are nagging and keep nagging, so that I would run, but I can’t. They whisper or scream, pull my arms or push me, make me too big or too small.

What are all these thoughts doing in my room? Some people say: you only need to watch them and ‘not get attached to them’. That sounds really good and I sometimes do it, but how long can a person keep this up? Moments later they continue their games as before. Some people say: you must only think positive thoughts. I do that too, sometimes, but how long can a person keep on doing that? Afterwards everything takes its usual course again. I can try to catch them, chase them away or neglect them and sometimes it seems effective, for a moment, but in the end things haven’t changed a bit.

I recently almost got one and then I spent so much time finding out what kind of thought it would be, that I got exhausted. And that is the point, I believe, they all cost energy and I can’t imagine that it is meant to be like this. You surely don’t get the energy to waste it on all kinds of useless matters. Of course there are useful things to think about too, like the best route to work, or a shopping list, but that is only a small part. Those thoughts don’t bother me: they are there for an instant and are then fulfilled. The rest seems rubbish and we may be talking about 99%.

Within me there is a desire for a clean thought life. It would be so good to always cherish peaceful, pure thoughts, full of understanding and kindness, so that I would leave a trace of gold wherever I went. People could feed on it. They would be happy without knowing why, just because I went by. And the very best would be that I would not be aware of it myself. Is this a non-achievable ideal, or can I work towards it, I then wonder. And meanwhile, what am I to do with that crowded room….

Thinking about that crowdedness has not progressed me much further. And perhaps I want to jump too high, as sometimes is suggested. Still, if the good hangs low, you can easily get it but there must be a higher good, to get you to jump, to make an effort. And suddenly, as if a golden apple falls into my lap, good advice comes from within. That is also a thought, but one that does not make me wonder where it comes from. It seems to live there, to belong right there. And it is very familiar, like what I used to tell myself in the past: ‘Have you looked at it in this way?’ Yes, that is what it was like… at once thoughts of quite a different nature, insights, ideas and possibilities – and I had had no idea! Crystal clear images, vistas as complete, unexpected sentences. That really helps me. I suddenly see all kinds of things, things that only concern me. How is that possible? What is this extraordinary singularity, which is so close to me that I can’t even see it?

The urge to search for the origin of the thought entities goes to the background. I still don’t know the answer, but I know many other answers.

And what I had wished to do for others, is done now to me. It is as if a trail of gold is laid in me, which I can feed on.


Reference: This article first appeared in Pentagram 2019 number 2

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Date: October 13, 2019
Author: Amun (Netherlands)
Photo: Olga Boiarkina

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