"You never know how malnourished your soul is until you really feed it."
I've noticed that I can coast in a decent attempt at living for quite some time.
We all can, really.
Some days will just go OK on their own without too much effort on our behalf.
However, I when I sat down this morning with some coffee and a sunrise I realized something...I hate coasting.
Coasting does one thing.
It gets you closer and closer to somewhere you don't want to be.
It's a mystery but a fact that you always end up somewhere, and our default destination is never our dream.
It's the "poof effect."
The blank stare after the "what did you do today" question.
The "holy junk it's already September" realization.
Do you have any idea how many things I planned to do or be before September that haven't been "done or been"?
When was the last time we really fed our souls?
How long have we been floating in our complacency?