Afraid
of My Own Thoughts
by Jim Brickman
with Cindy Pearlman.
 Face it -- the one person you never spend time with is yourself. It's almost too
mind-boggling when you think of the questions that would immediately come up if
you did: What would I mull over with myself? Would I find myself amusing? Would
I have anything to talk about with me? Oh, no, I'm not making myself laugh. Am I
a bore? And here's the big one: Would I even like myself? Or would I think,
Gosh, I wish I could dump this guy and find someone else's self who's a lot more
fun.
Okay, I'll stop. But you get the idea.
It's easy to ignore yourself. It's especially easy when we're always racing,
talking, doing, and going, which leaves little time for just being. But
often people say to me, "I get lost in my head listening to your music." What I
take that to mean is: (1) Hey, they like the music; and (2) I'm reconnecting
people to themselves in a weird way.
Let me explain. I find it really hard to sit in a room by myself. I'd go
crazy -- certifiably nuts. I mean, have you ever tried to just sit in a chair and .
. . drum roll, please . . . think? But the simple act of thinking is so helpful,
because you might actually find yourself in those thoughts. And we're so busy
doing a million things that we don't really have time to find ourselves.
Think about this: What do you really want from this life? Do you ever have a
moment to just sit down and really focus on what you want to achieve during your
time on the planet? Forcing yourself to answer such questions is rough, but
necessary. For me, of course, it has to do with music. And now back to that very
thing.
When people say, "Your music gets me through the day," I feel like I've been
their invisible companion. Many people put on the music and it feels like
somebody is there with them. And with that "invisible support system," they can
let their mind go free and wander to otherwise unexplored places. Call it a
mental Club Med vacation. You're the tour guide. Airfare doesn't even have to be
included, because you can just close your eyes and go any place in your head.
It's not a bad thing to do some really deep meditation. It doesn't have to be
as formal as sitting in your brown La-Z-Boy on the third recline notch and
staring at the paint-chipped ceiling. Maybe, for instance, you're driving in
your car, and the music playing starts to make you daydream -- but not to the point
where you don't notice that Mack truck in the distance. Please be careful.
Anyway, let's say you're obeying the rules of the road, but "drifting" just a
little bit, when suddenly, you're sent to a place deep inside where you're
thinking, Huh, I never thought about that stuff. The music isn't dredging
up these feelings. It's more like a catalyst that takes you on a mental voyage.
I like to walk around my neighborhood in the canyons of Los Angeles, and I
wish I could tell you that it's because I'm a nature freak. Nah, I go on these
walks because the gym in Hollywood drives me crazy, and I live in a hilly
neighborhood, so it's good "interval training," which is basically a fancy way
of saying that you sweat a ton by running up the hill. It's really good for your
heart, not to mention helpful for the hips.
I could never walk outside without headphones and two or three CDs. Honestly,
I'm afraid of what I would think. I'm almost afraid to have that time with
myself because: (1) What would I really think about; and (2) Do I really want to
think those things?
No, no, no! Let me repeat: No! Keep me away from myself.
You know what it's like when your brain gets a little bit too pushy. You
start thinking, Why am I with this person and not this other person? Why am I
doing this with my work? When I'm 90, will I have all my hair and teeth?
(Insert a loud scream here.)
We live in a time of overstimulation. There's not a moment when we're not "on something" -- such as the TV, radio, CD player, or cordless whatever. I've
gotten to the point where I can't take a bath for more than ten minutes -- just me
and some bubbles -- I also have to be on the phone, watching TV, or flipping
through the pages of Newsweek. Suddenly, I'm not thinking about myself.
Maybe we're all a little afraid of our own thoughts. Maybe afraid is
too big a word -- we're just leery of them. So now I force myself to be alone with
the one person I should know better than anyone -- me. Try forcing yourself: Get on
a stationary bike, or take a walk, without any other stimulation than your
own thoughts. You'll be surprised at what comes to mind -- and usually those
are the important things.
I'll confess that I figured out this trick one day while I was way, way up in
the canyons walking, and the most horrible thing on earth happened to me -- the
batteries in my Walkman died. And even a little battery prayer -- "Please spirit of
Duracell, let them work" -- didn't help. I was in a panic, wondering, Oh my God,
what am I going to think about for the next 20 minutes? It was the beginning
of self-discovery.
Simple Thought:
"My greatest strength is common sense.
I'm a standard brand,
like Campbell's soup or Baker's chocolate."
-- Katharine Hepburn
 This
article was excerpted from the book:
Simple Things
by Jim
Brickman with Cindy Pearlman.
reprinted with permission of the publisher, Hay House, and is available at
all bookstores, by phone 800-654-5126, or via the Internet. www.hayhouse.com
Info/Order this book.
About The
Author
Jim
Brickman's dazzling piano artistry and clever songwriting skills have
led to sales of more than three million albums. Hits such as "Valentine"
and "The Gift" have helped build his reputation as America's most
romantic songwriter. Jim's Website is: www.JimBrickman.com.
Visit Jim's website to hear his song: Peace (Where the Heart Is).
Cindy Pearlman is a nationally syndicated entertainment writer for the
New York Times Syndicate and the Chicago Sun Times. Over the past 15
years, she has interviewed Hollywood's biggest stars, who appear in her
column "The Big Picture."
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