This post is inspired by Jean-Paul Sartre’s novel Nausea. These thoughts are also inspired by a glass of water.
The style of this is different than previous posts. My typical format is more logical in nature as I try to put words to my experiences. In this post, I tried a more narrative approach – a representation of my stream of consciousness. The first section aims to express the ways I think depending on my level of intention and awareness.
Through the use of a glass of water, I show the disjointed nature of my thoughts when left to their own devices. This is to make clear the benefits of thinking intentionally, which in this case means to think with an end in mind. To “think before thinking” as I describe it. The object inducing thought is not important. The part of yourself that seeks expression through the object is.
This part of you may not be explicitly clear before you start, but what can unfold with a simple question and an observation of thoughts with direction is something to behold.
The second section is a response to the first. With this new metaphorical understanding of my subjectivity, I’m left wondering what I am to do next. I was made aware of the problem and now must seek the solution.
While you read, I encourage you to do a similar thought experiment as to what I attempt to portray. If at any point you feel yourself losing focus on these words, follow your thoughts wherever they may lead you. Keep one question in mind, “What can this teach me about myself?”
As always, I don’t have all the answers, but I hope my expedition to try finding them in my life inspires you to start the search in your own.
If you find meaning in these posts and would like to read more of my thoughts, ideas, and see more of my subjectivity made concrete, I just released my first magazine. I’ve compiled all my notes, posts, and art from the previous month and put them in one PDF. It’s completely free, but if you feel compelled to donate, the option is available and your support means the world to me as I work towards doing this full time.
A Glass of Water
A glass of water is nothing. My existence makes it something. I look at this glass sitting next to me and I allow it to evoke thought: I need more water. I left my water bottle in the car. There’s someone using a bandsaw outside. How can I describe that sound? Right, the water. I use this glass to water my plants and now I drink out of it. It’s actually not glass, it’s plastic, but that doesn’t matter. I wonder if I could paint that…
Thoughts could endlessly continue as such. A disjointed, but logical flow from one to the next. There is no intention behind these thoughts. No guidance. These thoughts will go where they want. Each triggered by random stimuli within my environment.
These thoughts are mine though. They are not me, but a single part of me. Like a limb, they can be adjusted? Altered? Acted upon in some way. I can move my arm however I please (with limitations of mobility). Pain can be inflicted upon my limbs with ease – many a wall has met my five knuckles. The wall remained a wall. I walked away a different version of myself. My thoughts are malleable, but slick. They escape me regularly, but I always find them again.
This glass of water can become whatever I want, not in a physical sense, but metaphorical. What do I want this water to spur within me? To what end do I want this plastic vessel to guide me? I set the intention for the water to explain my present state of emotions. My thoughts follow:
When we were kids, my cousin Ryan was thrown into the deep end. My uncle took it upon himself to teach Ryan a lesson in fear.
There’s a knowledge of your ability to swim or lack thereof. You are cast into the environment in which you know you’re not prepared to face. Whether you can swim or not, you have no choice but to try.
Many emotions and thoughts occur simultaneously in response to a lack of ability. When you’re met face to face with your own limitations, you will do everything you can to escape. The jumble of emotions and thoughts aren’t independently noticeable in the moment – there is no time to acknowledge and validate your fear as you sink to the bottom or flail at the surface. Can this heinous expression of my limbs be called swimming? Surviving is more fitting. Barely.
A cry for help tears through the air. Help cannot be waited for as you drown. Another person’s willingness to jump in is not guaranteed. You have no choice but to move if you want to escape.
Safety resides all around you, but it’s your responsibility to seek it. Help may come, but in the case it doesn’t, you are your own flotation device. You will not receive the Olympic gold for your efforts, but relief from this chaos will feel comparable.
Ryan is thrown into the pool. I am thrown into the known, but unprepared for. Pools are something I understand, but I cannot swim. Ryan was brought to safety by his older brother. It was then Ryan’s choice to learn how to swim or stay away from bodies of water. He learned. Work is my known, but unprepared for. Work is my water. I act as though someone is throwing me into the deep end before I’m ready. I’m the one jumping in even though I know I’m not a great swimmer yet.
It is always the same. Without preparation, to be cast into the deep end will always bring fear. My job will always be the same. If I do not prepare, the tension, frustration, stress, and reluctance will consume me. No one is coming to save me. I must learn how to swim.
Think Before Thinking
To think before thinking is to give your thoughts a task. If left to their own devices, thoughts will go wherever they please, based on the environment, how you feel, and habitually based on your core beliefs. Similarly to my pool metaphor, without direction, it’s as though I’m throwing my thoughts into the middle of the ocean with a, “Good luck!”. If I’m not the one guiding them, they’ll attach themselves to every passing boat, plane, fish, or floating log. They may come across solid ground here and there, but they’ll always cast themselves out into the unknown again.
As I reflect on my journey of introspection, I realize the depth and true change came once I finally had this sense of direction. In the beginning, I wasn’t sure exactly where this would lead, but the intention behind the thought became clear. My thoughts were no longer stuck in a negative loop because they now had an end to work towards.
The direction was vague, but it was something. I sat on my couch, eyes closed, and imagined meeting my childhood self in a safe place. The simple question, “What would you like to talk about?” sent my thoughts down an eye-opening path of deeper understanding. Now, each time I feel an overwhelming sense of emotion, I realize if I allow the thoughts to run wild, they’ll only perpetuate the negativity. So, as soon as I catch myself in the emotional loop, I try to offer my mind a task – usually along the lines of describing how I’m feeling in as many ways as possible then determining what needs are not being met.
As I stared at the glass of water, I had no idea what the final realization would look like. The initial intention was relatively vague, but look at the depth I received.
It’s hard to properly describe the difference in witnessing my thoughts versus allowing them to go wherever. It’s almost like sitting in front of a blank movie screen and just waiting to see the next image that flashes on the screen. Each time the image appears, there’s no judgement, just observation and a sense of curiosity as to what the next image will be. My mind becomes blank as I wait, my senses still take in my surroundings, but to a lesser extent, and I just see what happens.
Setting the intention doesn’t always lead to eureka moments of understanding. In those cases, it was simply practice to build the muscle of focused thought. When it does lead to something like the above, I make the effort to do what my mind tells me I need. In this case, prepare myself for the fate I’m likely to meet at work.
It reminds me of Marcus Aurelius reminding himself every morning about what kind of obstacles he is to face throughout the day. To prepare myself for work is to reflect on the emotions I often experience and the impulses that typically arise. My aim is to break everything down into its true value instead of my opinion of it. I ask myself questions like, “Why does X hold so much power over you?” and “What benefit do you receive from acting in such a way?”. Calling myself on my own bullshit makes it easier to recognize it in the moment and nip it in the bud.
There’s no more hoping for positive emotions, crossing my fingers that everyone there’s in a good mood, or worrying about how I’ll handle a rush. I’m responsible for building my own confidence in my abilities to swim out of the depths of every emotion in a healthy way. No one is going to help me, so it is up to me.
Final Thoughts
I step into the pool. My body wades through the water to a point at which I have to stand on my toes to touch the bottom. I turn towards the shallow end and I try to swim back. It’s not pretty, but I manage to reach the stairs.
Again. And again. Over and over until something starts to click. “This isn’t that scary” I think and I take a step further into the deep end. My feet no longer touch, but I spin towards safety and swim back. One day, with determination, I decide to swim from the shallow end to the opposite side – to place myself in the spot that scared me the most. My confidence guides me past all the depths I’ve overcome and before I come up for air, my hand hits the wall. I am here. The bottom stretches out endlessly underneath me. I hold onto the edge, fear is still felt, but the calm of this moment to breathe is all I need.
To face your fear, to face any emotion is to observe it from the surface. To be in the water, but not engulfed by it. To dive into the water is to allow the emotion to overwhelm you on a physiological level. You become the emotion when you sink into it. To float on the surface is to see the emotion for what it is, but not feel its full weight. The further down into the emotion you go, the more you feel it. The only thing you can think of at the bottom is needing to breathe.
Unfortunately what happens to a lot of us is, we’re thrown into the depths of our emotions before we learn how to understand them. Externals become the uncle that tosses you into the pool. As a child, you do not think about the emotions, you only feel them. Before you can learn how to observe them from the surface, you feel them in every fiber of your being. Before you learn to swim, you’re placed in the middle of a vast ocean.
It is not enough to just tread water. We all get tired eventually and we slip towards the bottom of our emotions. We feel them fully and we lose sight of the surface. When you sink beneath the surface your first goal must always be to find breath once more. You must come back up to the surface before anything else.
Treading water is helpful, but you must also learn to move forward, to seek safety.
I wonder if it’s possible to ever step out of the pool. Will there come a day when I do not feel any water on my skin?
Maybe, but for now, I’m enjoying my seat along the edge. My feet sway beck and forth and I watch the circular ripples expand across the surface in front of me. I can think about getting out of the pool later, but as I sit here in the sun, I just have to focus on not falling back in before I’m ready. Even if I do, I’ll know I can always swim back to safety.
November 8, 2026
