Oh, how I wish I had the ability to control my thoughts like a meditation master. Bad thoughts would occur, and I’d simply swat them away, able to resume my super-controlled, zen-like mental state without a care in the world. Me, I have a hyperactive limbic system, a frenetic prefrontal cortex with a super-sensitive tripwire that explodes with emotions at the slightest concerning thought. I was once moaning on about my unfortunate genetic predisposition towards the mental health conditions ADHD and OCD, when my meditation-fuelled brother stated that these conditions didn’t exist. According to him, they are just products of ill-disciplined minds. Other people have said similar things to me. It’s all a figment of my overactive imagination, apparently. ‘They didn’t exist when we were younger’, I’m reliably informed. And then, when they hear I’m an artist, it’s like – ‘ah yes, of course. You artist types.’ Maybe there’s something in that. Maybe the fact that I look closely and intensely at the world makes me more sensitive. Maybe it’s because I look for the beauty in things around me and cannot understand why people can be so hateful, nasty, and cruel. Or maybe I do actually meditate and do exercise a degree of control over my thoughts already, but on some days, when I’m overwhelmed, or tired, or just sick of listening to angry hate speech from the same people who tell me I’m inventing my mental health conditions, I just can’t cope. But I’m not a meditation master, and if I was, I’d be kinder, more tolerant, and more understanding of those people that did not have my level of self-control.