It's what I tell myself constantly as I write, or speak. I have such an internal editor. I'm an editor, a slicer, a cutter. It stops the stream of consciousness.
I stop myself. I stop. The invisible door slams in front of my words or thoughts. I slam the door. I slam.
No chance of a stream that flows.
What does a free stream of consciousness look like? Feel like?
It's a river full of everything. At its mouth, it's a cold dam bursting over with trash and fabric and sand, jumbled questions and scrubbing bubble answers, gasoline and olive oil, body parts and brain matter, war and peace, warm peaches and pomegranates, silk and lambswool, and diamonds.
But, it's not until the stream is steady and crystal clear that the diamonds appear, tumbling over the rapids of genius. Through the clear flow, valuable gems appear on the bottom of the stream. In fact the entire riverbed, once visible, is covered with diamonds, emeralds, rubies, sapphires, aquamarine and topaz. Beckoning with their brilliance, just waiting to be discovered.
Once the stream is unencumbered, the gems of thought loosen from the riverbed and dance in the currents of consciousness, a tango so seductive we can't wait to tumble among them, twirling and weaving, turning and dipping, then spilling them out onto the page or into a conversation.
The beauty of it is the rapids of gems are always there, always in us: ideas, solutions, aha moments, flashes of brilliance. Even when the surface is calm, the undercurrents are wild and free.
There's a comfort in knowing that everything we desire and need is always in our stream of consciousness. The goal is slowing down often and enough to notice.