Thinking. Under my terms.

I have friends. That have me thinking. That maybe I think too much. About the irrelevant. Or stuff for which I’ll never find answers. And that can be frustrating. Time consuming, too. When I could be doing more practical things. Such as living. Rather than thinking. Most times. I can’t conclusively say whether I’m happy or unhappy. Because I’m not thinking about it. I’m busy. Living the moment. Without giving it much, if any, thought. Fully immersed in my activity. Thinking. Thinking. Thinking. What does it mean to think? Does thinking make me happy? Or sad? I have the freedom. To think or not to think. I can pick the subject. Or let a random thought pop to mind. Out of nowhere. I’m continually experimenting with the process of forming my thoughts. Perhaps in creative, imaginative ways. I let the thoughts carry me. For better or worse. I’m assuming. For now. That it’s all right to be a thinker. Under my terms.  --Jim Broede