Happy mid-week snack break.
I left off our last missive with a warning to the monkeys—we’re coming for you.
We’re not hunting actual monkeys, we’re after the metaphorical monkeys that infest out brain and infect our thoughts, what the Buddha referred to as Monkey mind or Mind monkeys. These raucous rascals jump around the jungle that is our brain, popping in to interefere with our work, calm or focus, disrupting our thoughts. Monkeys want to check the internet or see what’s trending on Twitter. Monkey will compel you to get up away from your desk to see if there are any good snacks in the fridge (nope, not since last check 45 minutes ago).
Our Sunday challenge was to simply be aware of the monkeys, their chattering, screeching and jumping about. Today, we’re going to take it a step further.
We’re naming our monkeys.
We’re taking the power back from them.
You may only have one super busy monkey. You may have a whole band of the little fuckers. Your own pantheon of pranksters, parading through your thoughts.
Only you know them. Name them. Own them. Call them out on their shit.
I’m playing along here in real time, chasing down the dastardly little hobgoblins dancing in my psyche.
So far, I almost have enough monkeys to make a volleyball team.
There’s the constant snackmaster, Pickwick Bunny.
Treeeena is a social butterfly who must stop everything to check texts and social media. She accepts coffee dates when she knows she has a deadline looming.
Pemalas is a trashy slob, leaves messes everywhere that I have to clean up later.
Dr. Bullshit, PhD is a consummate researcher, who would be content to while away all day every day just looking stuff up on the internet: etymology of everyday objects, recipes for a non-alcoholic Nigerian cocktail called Chapman, how many players on a volleyball team, if there are make-up trends to make your lips look like a monkey’s butt…
Impling fell out of the back of the car when they were a kid and landed on their head in the Disney World parking lot. As a result, they have a completely warped sense of time with no idea how long anything takes, usually underestimates by half. But they’re really bright, with tons of great ideas, want to do all the things, and are always undertaking new projects.
These are but brief introductions to some very complicated creatures. They aren't without their charms, but can be annoying as fuck. In the short time since I’ve named them, I’m starting to feel more comfortable with them. I want to learn more about how they operate, how to keep them quiet and content. I suspect there are a few more, hiding away. They might be out shopping and will come back with a pile of crap I don’t know what to do with.
Now that you’ve met my monkeys, meet your own. Name them. Learn about them. What keeps them so busy?
By starting to understand who they are and what they want, we may stand a chance to get them under control.
I may give mine middle and last names, so when they’re really acting up, I can scold them properly, as in “Treena Parishilton McGrory, you will not peek at incoming texts while you’re meditating.”
I’d love to hear about your monkey family.
I’ll see you on Sunday.