Metathought
The reflection reminded me of some kind of liquid -- oil perhaps; something thick and angry.
The reflection reminded me of some kind of liquid -- oil perhaps; something thick and angry. But focusing on the window itself was not the object of the exercise, nor was it about noting the reflection; I was missing the point. The object was the metathought: the thinking about the thinking - to note the observation as it occurred, and observe the observation. To remove my self and ponder the remains.
I do this a lot; have done it for quite some time. It is sometimes mingled with the confusion and block. I often think there are things profound to be learned by it, and wonder what those things are; then, of course, wonder at the wonder.