The subconscious mind serves up all kinds of food at the table.

Some thoughts have useless ingredients. Who knows what kind of color-adding is in there?

You don’t have to eat any of those thoughts. You can be like Alice at the table and not eat me.

They are thoughts produced back there, in the kitchen, with a wide array of source ingredients of variable quality or meaning. Who knows what large industrial plastic bags our thoughts come out of?

Humans are filled with complexity.

I think a lot of thoughts I truly don’t believe. Not even a little bit.

It’s magical that as a human, our conscious mind gets to decide what's relevant or base-level true.

Maybe that's as strong a foundation as any to interrupt the reactive thinking my mind defaults to when I'm walking around.

Our ego can take secret forms, and the good news is that we can question its authority and let it babble away like a baby, unheard.

Let the babies inside of us simply be babies.