Thinking too much
[This post is copied over from The Wonderer.]
“You think too much.”
I was around 8 years old, having breakfast at my aunt and uncle's place. Or, to be more exact, I was sitting at the table, staring into space, while ignoring the breakfast items in my general vicinity.
Obviously, I hadn't gone there to think. It's a relative's house, so the objective is to eat. And that meant my uncle's assessment was correct: I indeed was thinking too much.
Thinking or daydreaming?
The thing is, I thought my uncle made no sense at all. In my 8 year old mind, I figured: in school, all day, every day they tell us to think. At home, I don't want to do stupid things, like break stuff, so I have to use my brain. Is there really such a thing as too much thinking? I thought not.
And also, “thinking” wasn't even what I was doing. I was daydreaming.
If you, like me, spend a lot of time in your head, you'll be well-versed of the difference. Thinking is hard work. It's single-pointed focus, using the brain as a tool to get a result. The act is often accompanied by a laser-like gaze and a frown on the forehead. You see that expression on little children, too.
Meanwhile, daydreaming is like floating on a cloud. It's loose and free, and the mind takes you where it wants to go – often fantastical places unreachable by reality. The gaze is usually either vacant or awestruck, and there's nothing on the forehead, except maybe some eyebrows lifted in surprise.
Crashing back to reality
I considered whether to correct my uncle on this important distinction, but realised that he just wanted me to eat. And, ideally, to interact with the other humans at the table. And that meant I had to come back from the daydream.
Returning from a daydream is never a graceful affair. There is no way to gradually descend the flying mind down from the mental sky. There is no generous landing strip waiting for you, extending out to give you ample time to acclimate back to reality. No. Someone near you says something. You crash-land. Rattled, you try to make sense of their request while half of your mind is still in that imaginary world, wondering if you can go back there once you've finished your breakfast. And all of this happens in about half a second.
What's it all for?
We've all seen a 'crash-landing' happen in movies, especially those about high school students who fantasise about their love interests. I'd bet that crushes are the go-to theme for most beginner or advanced daydreamers. Who wouldn't want to prance around in a romantic haze with the object of their affection?
Another common daydream subject, based on my highly unscientific research of random movies I've watched over the years, is getting comeuppance. Delivering a great comeback to a snide remark. Or telling someone off, deftly proving that you are morally superior through the strength of your rock-solid arguments. As a conflict-averse person, I've had the dubious satisfaction of scolding many people over the years, in the cushioned confines of my mind.
I don't know any other animal that can take vacations from reality in its own brain. Isn't it incredible? We can sit in traffic and imagine flying to our destination, or sit on a cloud gazing smugly at the choked-up road. Meanwhile an ant marching in a line has nothing interesting to look at but another ant's butt. And I'm sure that gets old pretty quickly.
Of course, excessive daydreaming is a problem. For many, a fantasy world can be more compelling than reality. And for others, it may be the only respite from a difficult and tragic situation. It's not my place to comment on why people end up in these situations. I can only go back to a piece of advice someone gave me: if someone is struggling, you may or may not be able to help, but always have compassion for them.
Reality matters
Daydreaming balanced with real life can, in fact, be a gift to the rest of us. A daydreamer who can turn their fantasy worlds into engrossing books, comic strips, TV shows, etc earns something special: an audience.
The world of Harry Potter, for example, is incredibly detailed. And although it's largely the stuff of one person's imagination, J. K. Rowling took inspiration from our world. For instance, the mandrake plant that looks like a human is based on an actual plant and its folklore, which has lasted thousands of years. Another example is Harry's response to traumatic events. I'm not a psychologist, so don't quote me on this, but I was convinced by how she chose to change Harry's behaviour and write his moods in book 5.
With the popularity of the series, the reverse also happened: fantasy informed reality. For example, you would think that Quidditch, a team sport that is played flying on broomsticks, would remain firmly in the magical world. Not so. Some innovative sportspeople invented a version of Quidditch that's compatible with the demands of gravity. Yes, you're imagining it right – they run around with broomsticks between their legs. There are even championship games now. Who knows, maybe it'll end up in the Olympics.
Of course, there is a long history of fantasy informing reality. If you look out the window and notice a helicopter, know that it was inspired by a book by Jules Verne. And the mobile phone you might be reading this blog post on? Star Trek. Really. Here's a quote from Smithsonian Magazine:
Martin Cooper, the director of research and development at Motorola, credited several “Star Trek” technologies as partial inspiration for the design of the first mobile phone in the early 1970s. “That was not fantasy to us,” Cooper said, “that was an objective.”
(Source)
Acts of courage
Personally, I prefer to think of my phone as a magic wand. That's because I'm more of a Harry Potter fan than a Trekkie. Regardless, I have respect for the writers of Star Trek, and those among us who expertly reveal the worlds in their minds to an audience willing to see them. It's an art, but it's also an act of courage.
But back to the 8-year-old at the breakfast table. That morning, it would have taken some measure of courage to share what was on my mind. Whether the audience was receptive is another question. And who knows – maybe my uncle would have been fascinated if I had thought to share.
Most mind-wanderers, though, aren't really thinking about their audience. Ultimately, our brief mental breaks and detours add spice to our inner lives. But if we express them with an understanding of our audience, our daydreams can also bring excitement, innovation and delight to the lives of others. And that is a lovely thought.