Natalie Weiss

The Reason for a Mantra

“Wake up.

“You will never be:

                a published author, or at least

                a writer who makes money writing, let alone

                a NYT bestselling author, or

                an author with a book on the screen.

“You will never be:

                a runner running faster than this, or longer than this

                an ultrarunner that anyone will give a damn about

                a trail runner traversing the Rockies – you’re too fearful for that.

“You will never have:

                author friends

                running friends

                a girlfriend who becomes a wife

                anything you really want.

“You will never be:

                a writer,

                a runner,

                someone’s someone.

“So why try?”

If I’ve learned anything from depression, it’s that some of my thoughts are my (?) thoughts. The parenthetical question mark is essential. Sure, these thoughts are inside of me. They’re in my head. They’re weighing down my heart. But they’re not my right mind. I don’t own them. They’re not a part of me though they live inside of me – the same way trillions of microorganisms inhabit a body; the same way they live in me, but they aren’t me. (Except maybe they exert exceptional influence, which is a fascinating, slightly terrifying subject that I’m not going to dive into for the sake of this metaphor.)

My (?) thoughts are like the ones above. Rude. Degrading. Destructive. Masquerading as realistic. Protective. Caring. Dressed so as to convince me they are honest, they are mine.

The existence of my (?) thoughts is one reason to have a mantra. Really any mantra that holds a mirror up to my (?) thoughts and shows them for what they really are: deceitful, limiting, unwarranted. My mantra, of course, is live in great expectation of good things. No, I may never achieve every goal I have set for myself. But I also might. Or I might continuously find good things in my pursuits of those goals. Unexpected things. If I keep my eyes open. If I keep believing. If I keep pursuing. If I live in expectation that I will find good things.

If I’m making it sound like it’s easy to live with this mindset, then I’m being dishonest. My mind, many times, wars between strings of thoughts like the list that began this essay and the mantra I try to hold on to. But I do believe it is true that I can feed my true thoughts. Or at the very least, starve the my (?) thoughts. I can eat well and run and write and take my medication and find my true thoughts bolstered. Or I can rest and seek kindness and humor and goodwill and find the my (?) thoughts receding, afraid to be present in light and contentedness. They may not always retreat fully; they may still hum in the background. But I find I have some agency in silencing them.

The act of writing, many times, reminds myself of these things. Puts words and sentences to the ebbs and flows of my mind. Tries to make sense of it all. So I’ll keep writing, I know, even if the my (?) thoughts somehow become true.

I’ll keep doing the things I am passionate about, even if I find little to no success as measured by worldly standards. Because good things should not be limited by worldly standards. By culturalist expectations. By degrading, destructive thoughts that somehow make their way inside my head. Good things cannot be measured by dollars or degrees or awards. I’m not sure good things can be measured at all.