What do you think about when you’re alone? If no one is looking for an answer, what is the question?  What do you ponder? Is it just before you go to sleep at night that your mind is free to wander without restraint? Do you go with it?

I’m looking at a picture of someone I have never met, someone I do not know. And I wonder what he thinks about. I wonder what the people are thinking about that I pass on the street. Are they having a good day? Are they happy and thinking about a lover. Or are they fixated on an issue they do not seem to be able to rectify?

We cannot know what another is thinking about unless they tell us. And even then, chances are good they won’t be telling us everything. Why should they? They have a right to privacy. We have a right to have deep dark corners of our minds that we do not share with any one, unless of course our deep dark fantasies are too deep, too dark and too terrifying. That in itself opens up a whole can of worms.  Think thought police…  Be afraid, be very afraid.

If we were able to hear the thoughts of another, we would run screaming into the night. We would have no context. We don’t know why they’re thinking what they are thinking, we don’t know what circumstances triggered it. Because no two people go through an experience the same way, it stands to reason that what you think about, even if it’s on the same topic, will be wildly different. And that’s a good thing.

I believe that it is our differences that compel us to create, to invent, to evolve. Quite frankly if there were too many of me the world would be in huge trouble! Even twins are different. Knowing what someone else is thinking is never a good idea. Our thoughts are the one place where we should have total privacy, total immunity from the world. Now when they stop being thoughts and become actions then it’s far more important the rest of the world knows what’s going on. Or at least those around you. After all actions have consequences. Some good, some bad.

So, to all of those who want to know what I’m thinking . . . you don’t, you really, really don’t.