Have you watched Clarkson’s Farm — the episode titled “Endgaming”?

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It’s the one where Jeremy fits satellite-linked collars to his goats & sets

up a virtual boundary using an app. As the goats roam, munching on

brambles & buttercups, they’re warned with a soft buzz if they get too

close to the boundary. If they ignore the warning & press on, the collar

delivers a small shock, prompting them to back off. It’s a clever system —

not just for farming, because it got me thinking about our own boundaries.

Not physical ones but rather mental ones. Emotional ones. Thought

boundaries.

 

I’d been having a really good week. You know that kind of stretch where

things just feel aligned? I felt content, productive, grounded.

& then Wednesday happened.

A single moment triggered me — & off went my thoughts, galloping away

like an unsupervised goat on a mission.

 

It wasn’t the situation itself, but the chain reaction it sparked inside me.

One old narrative, one past memory, one flicker of hurt — & suddenly I was

spiralling. My thoughts got loud. They grew legs. They powered me —

& then promptly ruined me for a few hours.

I couldn’t enjoy pottering in the garden. I’d been so excited about

planting the new flowers I'd coveted a holiday in France & then

immediately ordered upon my return. They’d just arrived, wrapped in paper

& promise. But instead of tending to them with care, I stomped around the

garden having an imaginary argument. I did, however, mow the grass at

record speed, so… silver linings?

 

But what really hit me later was the pattern. I’ve been here before — many times. That mental monologue where I justify myself in invisible conversations. That need to be understood, defended, explained — even if it’s only in my own head. I wasn’t even sure if I was processing the moment or just feeding the wounded part of me that needed to feel in control. Needed to feel right.

 

It was then that the goat metaphor landed.

 

What if my thoughts were like goats inside an electric fence? What if those uncomfortable feelings — the tight chest, the heat rising in my neck, the urgency to react — were the audible buzz, the early warning signal? If I don’t heed it, the next step is pain. The emotional zap. The self-sabotage. The thing that ruins my moment, my mood, my day.

 

The fence isn’t there to punish the goats — or us. It’s there to keep us safe. In alignment. It’s a boundary we’re meant to honour. Not with shame or suppression, but with awareness. Because if we’re honest, most of our thoughts don’t need to be chased down & wrangled. Most of them just want to run wild to make sense of something old. Something unhealed. Something triggered.

 

My thoughts were extending out like tendrils, trying to plug into something, to validate themselves, to relieve the discomfort. But what if, instead of feeding them, we buzz ourselves back?

 

Imagine hearing a soft internal noise the moment you start spiralling — a hum, a static charge, maybe even a dramatic cattle prod sound if that’s your thing. It doesn’t have to be violent — just disruptive enough to jolt you out of the story. To snap the connection before it sinks its claws in. To remind you: this is not your truth.

 

Because thoughts are only as powerful as the feelings we feed them. Without adding emotion & meaning to them, they’re just passing clouds. But when we invest in them — replay them, dramatise them, defend them — they take root. And that’s when they zap us.

 

So here’s my takeaway — one I’m learning again & again: Let your thoughts graze. Let them roam within reason. But pay attention to the boundary. Listen for the hum. Don’t wait for the shock. Guide yourself gently back to presence. Back to your garden. Back to the moment.

 

Because goats don’t worry about the fence. They hear the buzz, they turn around & they go back to munching brambles.

 

And maybe we should too.