I swear, the things that pop into my head.
I was driving through the Queensland countryside the other day and out of nowhere the phrase, “It’s the thought that counts” jumped into my brain. No idea where it came from, but that’s okay. I just kept driving and let it float around back there, until I realised something.
This well known saying, phrase, idiom—call it what you will—is complete bollocks.
Bullshit.
A falsehood.
Thoughts count for nothing.
If thoughts truly counted, then I could just kick back and take it easy, knowing that I’d been thinking about writing the next book.
I’m going to take a wild guess that readers wouldn’t appreciate that approach as much as me actually taking action and doing the work required to write the book and get it into their hands.
If thoughts counted, I could just blow off the the rest of my training and turn up at my next triathlon figuring, “Hey, I thought about training. That’s enough, right?”
Wow, the potential outcome of that scenario motivates me more than I thought it would.
Before anyone points out that the phrase is meant to be used when someone has done something for us, and that something is not exactly what we want, I understand that. I do.
But I still don’t think it works.
Let’s say Great Aunt Maude gives me a Christmas gift of potpourri when I’m highly sensitive to fragrance (and she should know that).
I can appreciate that she took the time to get me a gift at all (her action).
I can be thankful that I have family to share Christmas with (the situation).
But, I’m sorry Aunt Maude, your thought that potpourri was a good gift for me, well, it sucks the big one.
I tell you, it’s scary sometimes being inside my own head.
What about these others?
“Frightened to death.” At the least, extremely unlikely, more probably impossible.
“Time heals all wounds.” As the kids say: Yeah, nah.
“We’re not laughing at you, we’re laughing with you.” Umm, yes they are, and besides you weren’t laughing.
And this?
“It could happen to anybody.”
Could it? Really?
I suppose it depends upon the exact situation, so there’s maybe more leeway for this to be true, but it still sounds like the same sort of rubbish.
But, enter story …..
We read books, at least I do, with the twin thoughts of “I wish this were happening to me” and “I’m so glad this isn’t happening to me”.
We like to think we’d be the hero of the story, leaping bravely into battle while, at the same time, knowing that in reality our better senses would prevail and we’d most likely be scuttling to a dark corner and adopting the foetal position.
This is what I love so much about story.
We get the chance to have an experience without having to actually live it. Sometimes, we’ll learn something, get a new appreciation for our world, maybe even stumble across a nugget that makes navigating our lives a little bit easier.
Or more effective.
Or more connected.
And so in this case, I find that I’m arguing against myself because storytelling absolutely allows us to be in the situation where “it could happen to anybody”.
Thanks for listening to my Ted Talk about the vagaries of the English language and how we choose to apply it.