You Think Too Much
We were in Taos, New Mexico, a few months ago to celebrate a family friends birthday weekend. It was the second night and the third cocktail party. I was halfway into declaring some intellectual stance on who knows what when one of the guys in the crowd - also a family friend - uttered the now famous words: You think too much!
I swayed backwards for a second, two or three. The gentleman - which we had spent the previous night drinking and smoking cubans with - was spot on I realized. It might be a nordic trait, or family or even personal - who knows. The desire to observe, then contemplate, then gurgitate, then digest, then regurgitate and so on. Until every thread of reality is gone and any kind of valuable thought is transformed into a demented hysteria, into a pretentious nothingness trying to kling on to an academia that is refusing it's forced association.
"You think too much", he said. I knew he was right. It was the illness I had been born with, brought up with and that had been chasing me for my whole life. The false desire to regurgitate every single blink, force every conscious thought into a sterile analysis without friendly input or passionate love.
I learned everything I know from that night. I sent the desire to ponder and rationalize on my own to the door. Walk that way, I told the crazy fucker. I'm done with thinking too much. I want to make dragonflies in the sand without reflecting over the future. I just want to feel at home, in my own skin without having to reflect, just act and react. I think too much, I thought.

