A flurry of fine, soft snowflakes are falling as I write this morning, a thin layer of white already on the ground. It doesn't snow often where I live but when it does, I fall in love all over again with that still silence that always accompanies snow.
I'd stopped to rest my backpack on the low wall that ran along the outside edge of the cemetery. Fumbling around for my gloves, I heard a car pull up on the road behind me. I turned to see what was happening as the driver called out:
"Do you know where the correctional centre is for the bad people?"
As he drove away, the emotion bubbled up hot and strong, my heart broke, and the tears fell.
The mind just doesn't know its way to the answers you're looking for. The intellect doesn't know. But the mind is what you know to use, so you go there. You have a problem in your life, a dilemma, something you really need to figure out. So you go to thought. Go to the mind. Go to intellect.
And you find it's just not giving you what you need. No answers. Just more frustration and more circular thinking. The quality of it all spirals down. And the more you look to the mind for answers, the further you travel from those answers. And the further you get, the more desperately you go to mind. Vicious circle, see.