I sometimes get caught believing my thoughts–I act as though my mind has power over me. Then I look for the feelings that support those thoughts, and I’m truly off and running–directly into the savage arms of suffering.

What I forget is that thoughts are objects, hence they exist only in the past–yes, only a split-second ago, but still the past–and they cannot know anything. They can only be known.

Lately, when I notice I have once again fallen into the trap of believing thoughts, I imagine them as translucent soap bubbles edged with rainbow reflections, and the bubbles are floating up and away. They are fragile, ephemeral, and will burst on their own if I simply leave them alone.