First I exercised thoughtlessness with my eyes closed. This was my meditation. Then I did the same with my eyes wide open. And now I exercise it under all sorts of circumstances—while sitting alone at home, while staring through a café window, while on a leisurely walk… And I am getting ever better at it. I can go thoughtless for quite some time now. As of late, not even snippets of thought come my way. And I do not name things I see. A passing taxi is just that. And so is a pigeon flying past me, or a bouncing bum of an obese woman walking in front of me. Most important, I am not theorizing any longer about everything in sight, which was my habit for many a year. I let things be as they are. Taxis, pigeons, and bums are none of my business, as it were. In short, thoughtlessness makes me happy. Well, content. And contentment is the toughest of observances in Patanjali’s eight limbs of yoga. Whence a touch of misplaced pride in this piece in praise of thoughtlessness.