Thinking is mostly a meandering, purposeless activity. Love doesn’t think. Beauty doesn’t think. Consciousness has no thought process. In Ode to a Nightingale, John Keats wrote that “the dull brain perplexes and retards”.
Two nights ago, I dreamt that I was lying in a light-filled room full of resting babies. Suddenly the baby next to me looked directly into my eyes and said, “We love you.”
“Are you out of your mind?” [Pause here, for effect.] “Yes, I am.”
As electricity is not a light bulb, neither a toaster nor a Tesla, I am not a body. I animate the body. I see and work with the body. For a little while.
A divine awareness permeates every aspect of creation. Even stones have consciousness! But humans are mostly left-brained. A man is a man and a thing is a thing and medicine is mechanical.