6-minute read
In school, we are trained to sharpen the tool that is the mind. For years we undergo exercises to strengthen it, and eventually, most of us come to believe we are the mind. This is the root of a subtle but devastating trap: we become victims to the mind and its endless games.
We are rarely taught the true nature of the mind, the origin of thoughts, or—most importantly for our liberation, how to still the mind’s waters and free ourselves from its dominance.
Distancing yourself from the mind and mastering it as a tool may seem difficult at first, but I promise: you already have the ability to shift from mental identification to conscious witnessing. Even without advanced techniques, you can begin to transcend the compulsive grip of body, mind, and thought. But we must first understand more of this tool we call the mind.
The mind is like an open mic in your head
When my meditation students begin their healing path, we start with the mind. It’s often the most dominant force in their inner world. This makes sense: the “horse” (the body) is our first friend. We live inside it for years and experience its many changes, so there’s an intimate familiarity with our inner dialogue—the voices of thought.
The problem is that, over time, our affection for this dialogue turns into attachment. We become addicted to thinking and become identified with it. But here’s the truth: you are not your mind or your thoughts.
My favorite example to illustrate this with my students is the “ugly baby” scenario.
The Ugly Baby Test
Imagine a loved one has just had a baby—and it’s ugly, it’s really ugly. Your first thought might be something unkind, something you would never say aloud. Inside your head, a voice blurts: That baby is hideous. Yet, outwardly, you put on a smile and say, “They’re beautiful.”
The point of this example is extreme on purpose: it shows you clearly that you can witness a thought, discern its quality, and choose not to act on it. Fundamentally showing that you are not every thought that is witnessed. Thoughts do not become reality unless we act on it.
If you can separate yourself from one absurd thought, it demonstrates that you are not any of your thoughts. But here’s the deeper question: if you can discern the ridiculous ones, what about the subtle thoughts you’ve become entranced by, the ones you entertain without question? This is where the mind’s grip hides in plain sight, because the thoughts we examine least are often the ones steering us the most. The ones we are comfortable with become the most easily identified with.
The Mind Plays a Game of Affection for Attention
Thoughts cannot exist without you, the witness. The brain, the nervous system, and the thoughtforms that arise are all part of the horse, and this body-mind system responds to whatever you focus on. It gathers information from the environment and experiences you’ve lived through to provide its own input.
Whatever you give attention to, you give life to. Wounds, addictions, and ingrained habits have the most inertia, so they produce the loudest thoughts. The more we feed them, the more they dominate the mindspace and arise. Quickly, tangent upon tangent can arise as we become immersed in the imagination.
When thoughts are loud, they feel intimate; our gaze fixates on them thus giving them more energy to exist. But what happens when we shift attention away from the thought and back to the observer—the one who the mind is talking at?
The Witness and Perceiver of Thoughts, our I Am-ness
Simply put, we return back to ourselves, the inner and outer observer, that sense of self, that sense of I Am-ness that permeates all we experience- which is absent of thought. This “I Am-ness” is always present, even when the mind is quiet.
Our best moments—deep intimacy, creative flow, pure joy—are linked by one thing: the absence of mental noise. Some call it being in the zone, flow state, or, in Sanskrit, samadhi. Whatever you call it, you’ve already tasted what it’s like to live as the pure witness, but the truth is always revealed in the subtleties of our experience.
Come to know and entertain that you can live without the mind’s input. The more we cultivate this state, the more we realize: we don’t need the mind’s constant input. In fact, the mind is most effective when used sparingly and intentionally.
“Your beingness is like the sky; thoughts are the passing weather. Come to know yourself as the sky, not the temporary happenings.” – P.A. Lucas
An Invitation into Experiential Knowing
Sit for a few minutes and notice the spaces between thoughts.
Ask yourself: Which thoughts are pulling at my heart/attention, and why?
Trace a negative thoughtform back to its source: Where did it come from? Whose voice is it really? Does this sound like anyone I know, or like anything I was told?
If this stirred something in you, sit with it. Let it echo.
Try one of the practices above—not to fix yourself, but to remember yourself. And when you do, share what you discover. Someone you know may be ready to remember too.
Key Takeaways
You are not your thoughts—you are the one who notices them.
Thoughts are sustained by your attention; what you feed grows.
The mind is a tool, not your identity.
Inner stillness reveals a truer self beyond the mental noise.
Reflection or Journal Prompt
Where in my life am I unconsciously feeding thoughts that do not serve me?
What would happen if I gave that attention back to stillness instead?
