Why do you do the things you do?

Do you ever wonder why it is you do what you do? Are you making the thoughts that cause you to act, or are the thoughts just appearing from somewhere within the ether and you're simply following along? 

"Cry Baby" ~ LithoFusion Collection © 2012 Skip Hunt

I recently decided to buy a plane ticket to Mexico and will be on my way there very soon. I've since come up with reasons I decided to go and have also forged a catchy theme for the trip called The CHUPACABRA Tour that makes sense given the area I'm going with relation to where the story took place.

However, when I think of the moment I pulled the trigger and bought that plane ticket there wasn't any plan, or theme. It was almost as if I really had nothing to do with it at all. That sounds a bit nutty I'm sure, but if you think about the moment thoughts appear, do you really feel like you are making that thought? Is the thought forming on its own, or appearing from somewhere else?

There are those who'll claim we're all part of the bigger plan of a supreme being. If that's true, how much control do we really have in our lives? 

It all gets difficult when you start thinking about what we really are and such. I feel I'm more than a biological machine with an organic computer calculating probabilities, but I'm not certain that whatever it is that I am… if it's actually running the controls. 

Sometimes I wonder if everything is really some giant elaborate illusion and the only reason any of this appears to be real is simply because the alternative is that it is not. Or, perhaps everything "is" and "is not" at the same time? 

The very next time a thought forms that causes you to react or act in some way or another, see if you can absolutely tell whether you made that thought or if it simply came to be and you're just along for the ride.

I'm going to think about that too as I revisit the recorded audio book I recently made called CHUPACABRA. It's a true story that happened over 13 years ago, but I'd like to think about what drove me so close to the brink of death over something as unimportant as writing a screenplay in Mexico. I still don't know what got into me back then and hope being there again will expose some of the mystery.

Skip Hunt
Austin, Texas