I often sit and just think. Think about whatever comes to mind; the state of the world, if there is an afterlife, what I am going to eat for dinner later. I could do this for hours, but as other responsibilities demand my attention, I usually only do it for very brief periods. I remembered the other day how my father could do this. Just sit in his recliner, tilted back, eyes drifting upward toward something only he could see in his mind's eye. I wonder now if he thought about the things that I think about. Maybe he did. And maybe, we are more connected than I ever thought possible. I wish I could ask him what he thought about, in those long hours sitting in his chair...
Would we really tell each other, honestly, what we thought about if asked? After all, the confines of our mind is the only real private place we have left, if you think about it. In this vast, technological age, a private thought or memory, even a controversial opinion, locked inside our mind is the only real safe place. Someday, we may even lose that luxury, though for now at least, I think we're safe.
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