One Thing Leads to Another (Monkey Mind)

A few years back, I had a yoga teacher who described the way the mind wanders as 'monkey mind.' I thought, "That's it! Fantastic!" Except while I was in class, trying to think about what I was doing, I became extra aware of how my mind wandered. I decided my wandering thoughts could best be described as 'barrel of monkey' mind, with one hooked to the other and the next and the next. First, I'd find myself contemplating the almond croissants across the street at Premier Moisson, heavy with marzipan and dusted with icing sugar and slivered almonds. Then I'd think about how I shouldn't be thinking of that, how contemplating the fiiiine taste of almond with a swig-of-coffee chaser was not doing my balance any favours. (Unless tree pose is supposed to represent a tree in a wind storm, in which case I was spot on). From there, I would think about the fact that, come to think of it, I was low on cash and shouldn't I go to the bank? Oh, and I need cat food and, and... All to say, monkey mind, yessiree, I got ya.

At times when I want to focus on the task at hand, I can find this monkey mind o' mine a bit of a burden. In other instances, however, I have come to welcome it, or at least relax and enjoy the ride. I figure with my particular Pam mind, it's just part of the deal and actually, it's pretty entertaining. To be specific - not a moment too soon, you're all thinking! - take Rupert. When I adopted Rupert, he had been named Sea Moon by the lady fostering him. I couldn't get my mind around that, so tried calling him Simon, which is a name I like. But he just didn't seem like a Simon to me. So my sister suggested Rupert and bingo, that was it. Distinguished, cuddly, the colour of Scotch caramel and a cat who if given the opportunity, could no doubt carry off a fine tweed cap. Rupert, indeed! But ditching Simon didn't seem altogether right, so he became Rupert Simon. Rupert Simon McGillicuddy. But wait, it doesn't end there, because sometimes I call him Rupert Demon Seed, which naturally leads to me calling him Demon Runyon. And because he can be a handful, I occasionally call him Crackpot. Crackpot becomes Cracky, Cracklin' Rosie, Crackhead (sorry, but true), Rupert McCrackindale and finally Krakatoa, after that 19th century Indonesian volcanic eruption. (I mean, duh!). I could go on, too - I mean really, really go on.

If you, like me are waiting for a point, a denouement then you, like me shall be left wanting. I can't provide, my peeps! Only to say that sometimes my barrel of monkey mind can be a good way to blow off mental steam - it's silly and refreshing and raucous and what comes naturally. At least to this monkey.