Let your ideas die
I had an idea and now it is gone.
If I spent every moment lamenting lost thoughts I’d be a professional mourner, a dream widower.
If you love something, let it go. Set it free. Let it die. Or whatever.
Honestly, I don’t run an idea zoo here. I can’t keep everything locked up in my head.
If it’s going to go it’s going to go. Good riddance. There’s a lot more where that came from.
Right? Right? [Nervous laughter]
Every morning there is a magical moment between when I hit snooze and when I fall back to sleep.
It’s called the hypnagogic state.
It’s where untamed ideas roam in vast herds or have flights of fancy. It’s where thoughts have form. It’s where the unreal happens.
In high school I wanted to become a neurologist so I could study dreams and other altered states—like out-of-body-experiences and sleep paralysis.
I wanted to be the first person to set up a sleep PVR to record dreams.
One of my favourite movies at the time was Brainstorm, where Christopher Walken’s character creates a device that can record and playback brainwaves. It’s used to record porn, naturally, but it’s also used to record the experience of death.
From the most basic human urge to the inevitable, the sacred. From the mundane to the impossible. Our thoughts are not our own. They are borrowed energy. They are cosmic circuitry. They are magic.
And when they are gone they are gone.
But don’t shed a tear.
You still have at least one-hundred trillion to one quadrillion synapses left to tickle your ganglia.
When you say your mind is blank, you just aren’t paying attention.