we need to acknowledge that what passes through them - the ideas we entertain and the moods

we’re in - may have very little to do with the workings of these minds themselves.

It may - for example - suddenly seem as though we have a new and very specific take on the

world: we are sure that we should leave our job, say goodbye to our partner and never

see our ungrateful children again.

Or we may feel that we have come to a resolute new political certainty: that society is totally

corrupt and human nature inherently selfish.

And yet, with hindsight, we may realise that these ideas were not necessarily logical or

true, they were just emanations of a hard-to-notice detail: that we had missed out on four hours

of sleep the night before or hadn’t drunk anything since early morning.

Much that we think about - though it seems to be rationally founded - stems in essence

from the ups and downs of the complicated bodily envelope we’re entwined with.

Our thoughts can predominantly be the result of what we had for lunch, what time we went

to bed, when we last sat on the toilet and how our blood sugar level is doing.

This can sound hugely insulting.

Surely we are wiser and cleverer than to be knocked off course by a sugary drink or a

poor night.

But we would be even wiser to follow, in this regard, the instincts of all good parents

of young children.

When they see their toddler swiftly turning furious, tetchy and jealous, they know that

they are not witnessing an inexplicable character transformation in their formerly pleasant

charges.

They look at their watch, make their excuses and hurry upstairs to put the young one to

bed for an hour.

The mind will return to its usual state soon enough; it just cannot hope to do so while

supported by a flagging body that’s done three hours of energetic cartwheels or ball

games with the neighbour’s cocker spaniel.

We should understand ourselves in similar terms.

When we are filled with tragic thoughts, we should remember that there are always dark

perspectives we might adopt.

When we do so therefore, it isn’t necessarily because our minds have uncovered new and solid

reasons to despair, it’s just that we lack the energy to bat away our fears and stay

on the side of life and hope.

We say ‘I’m having bad thoughts and I’m exhausted’; we should learn to say ‘I’m

having bad thoughts because I’m exhausted.’

We shouldn’t protest that there are ways of thinking that are primarily the outcome

of having eaten too many chocolates and of not having been out of the house all day - and

others that are the outcome of a brisk swim and a handful of dried cranberries.

To know ourselves never means knowing just our minds; it means tracking the decisive

ways in which these minds are daily manipulated by our bodies and should, before we listen

to them any further, be put down for a nap or sent on a long walk around

the park.