The Power of Mind

A couple of days ago, I headed out for work a little early, leaving the house at about 7:20AM, needing to be at work by 7:45AM. Due to not getting up early enough, I hadn’t had time to make a pot of coffee, and I don’t do particularly well in the morning without coffee. I left the house early with the intention of going to Tim Hortons, getting a bagel and a cup of cappucino, and then going on to work.

I thought 25 minutes would be more than enough time to get my breakfast and still be to work on time. It only takes a few minutes to go from my home to Tim Hortons, and then another few minutes to get from there to the university.

When I arrived at Tim Hortons, however, I found huge line of cars in the drive-thru. I momentarily weighed my options: park and go in (which might have been quicker), or pull into the line of cars? I decided on the latter, remembering that when I had previously parked and went in, it actually wasn’t much quicker, because all of the workers were busy with the drive-thru.

The Shifting of the Mental Gears

As I pulled into the line, a slight shift in my mind took place, a clinking of the gears. Was I going to be late for work because of this huge line? I had left the house early enough, hadn’t I? Certainly I did, and if I was late, the blame would lay on these people in front of me taking too long to order, the workers taking too long to prepare those orders.

As I sat there, I could feel the minutes slipping by. Each car ahead of me seemed to take somewhere near half a decade to place their order, pull up, get their order, and leave. What was taking so long? I was going to be late to work because of this!

I then had another slight shift in my thinking; I realized this was all of my fault. If I hadn’t slept that extra 20 minutes, I could have made coffee at home, saving myself the trip to Tim Hortons. It was my fault that I was going to be late for work, it was my fault that I was going to perhaps be in trouble with my boss, having to have a “talk” with her about my being late. It was my fault that my day was going to start out terribly.

Just How Late Am I?

Finally, after what felt like a compact century in line at Tim Hortons, I had my bagel and coffee in hand. I pulled out of the lot into the traffic (which seemed to be moving far too slow for me), and headed towards the university. Of course, on my way, I had to run into every red light. That was my luck this morning, wasn’t it? “Overslept, stuck in line for an eternity at Tim Hortons, and now I’m behind these damnable red lights!” This did give me a bit of time to quickly eat my bagel (not enjoying it much due to my haste), but this is something I didn’t appreciate much at the time. I hate being late.

I finally pulled in at the parking lot, doing a haphazard job of parking the van. I got out, my bagel a hazy, unenjoyed memory, my coffee and bookbag gripped in nervousness. As I walked up the sidewalk to the library, I wondered: just how late am I? Half an hour? 45 minutes? I imagined a crowd of people around the reference desk, demanding help, which I was not there to provide. (This, of course, despite the fact that in all of my time at the reference desk, I have never had a “crowd” demanding anything.) I imagined walking in, with the eyes of my boss and coworkers falling on me, as if to say, “You’re late, and you’re going to pay for it.” I knew it was going to be a miserable morning.

The Truth

I walked into the outer hallway of the library, reached for the door that would let me into my doom, and pulled. Click. It was locked. How could that be? I was late. Had they decided to just not open because the reference assistant wasn’t there on time to help the clamoring crowd? For that, I was sure I’d be fired!

No. Of course, as I’m sure you have already realized, I wasn’t late. On the contrary - I was actually still a bit early, by at least 5 minutes. I had left the house in plenty of time, and while the line at Tim Hortons had been longer (and slower) than usual, it wasn’t that slow.

And yet I had made the last 20 minutes of my life, which felt more like a day, extremely miserable for myself. How? By telling myself stories in my mind, and believing them. As I became more nervous, more upset about being late - which wasn’t reality to begin with - the negative thoughts just snowballed. Damn the people in front of me for taking too long; damn the slow workers; damn the red lights; damn myself for sleeping too late. I even felt some physical discomfort, because as my nervousness increased, so too did my pulse, and most likely my blood pressure. All of this by telling myself a story, and taking that story as truth.

Lessons Learned

What then, does this tell us? It tells us that we need to pay very close attention to our minds, and what they’re brewing around the clock. The saying “the mind has a mind of its own” holds a great deal of truth. Our minds spin tales constantly, often without our realizing it, and if we’re not constantly vigilant (to borrow a phrase from Mad-Eye Moody), we can easily fall into the trap of basing our actions on stories that are out of alignment with reality, with how things really are. If I had just realized that I most likely wasn’t late, and even if I were to be late, it wouldn’t be that bad, I could have saved myself a good deal of inner suffering.

Which brings me to the end of this post, and to these questions: are you suffering somewhere in your life? Is that suffering due to reality, or due to a story you’ve told yourself, or one that you’re still telling yourself? Would life be better if you’d just see things as they are, rather than how you think they are?