The moment you observe a thought,
it’s not you.
But who’s watching?
(No really. Who invited this guy?)
This isn’t a method for managing thoughts.
It’s a radical shift in how you relate to them.
You’re not the thinker.
You’re not the thought.
You’re the space between.
Most days the commentary runs you.
You don’t notice the thinking—
just the constant hum beneath it all.
What if you caught the thought instead of being dragged by it?
Let the thoughts arise.
No fighting. No fixing.
Let each thought pass like wind across tall grass.
No chasing. Just seeing.
And then meet what lingers—
joy’s warmth,
anger’s pulse,
the tug of worry.
Rest your attention, gently,
on the current beneath the feeling.
As if placing a hand on water—
Stillness.
It won’t always be easy.
Sometimes it trembles.
Sometimes it burns.
Stay anyway.
With a warrior’s spirit—
steady and unblinking—
until the ripple settles.
Thoughts fade first,
the emotional knot untangles.
Until finally, release happens to you.
(Without so much as a courtesy text. Typical.)
Do this as often as you breathe.
Again, and again.
The clouds keep moving.
The field widens.
The tugging eases.
And nothing needs to be pushed away.
You don’t let go of it.
It lets go of you.
Explore more:
Some traditions (Joko Beck, early Vipassanā) use a quick label—“thinking,” “sadness”—as training wheels.
Other traditions (Non-Dual / Dzogchen / Mahāmudrā) emphasize direct, non-conceptual awareness from the start. No need to label—just recognize and rest in awareness itself.
Let your experience guide you.
Labeling can be a helpful tool.
If short tags help, use them.
But drop the commentary as soon as you can stand on your own.
Like the practice of the inner glance of letting go,
the endgame is one of anticipation and reflex.
Practice makes perfect—
Silence is the real teacher.
