I quote, therefore I think: What are you hungry for?

And I think:

I was hungry again for the right thing.

I am utterly fascinated by the beauty and meaning of this arrangement of words.

Not a craving for a quick fix.

Not the anticipation of satisfaction.

But the willingness to see and accept the hunger—a need not yet met—and giving it space.

How often do we take what our heart truly hungers for, step back, and hold it up for thoughtful, or better yet, soulful examination, before scrambling in a rush to feed it, grabbing the most convenient thing at arm’s length lest we feel that dreaded feeling?

I was hungry again for the right thing.

Not the easy thing.

Looking at the right thing implies that it will not, most likely, be the easy thing (simple, perhaps; easy, no). It implies too a deeper understanding that finding it will be a journey, and not a quick or smooth one at that but one fraught with challenges, and saying to all that . . . okay.

There is such a sense of finally-finding-the-way-home with these words, like a intricate mechanism fitting and clicking together and suddenly it feels right, despite having a few thousand more pieces scattered about.

We don’t know how it will play out.

So often I forget what facing fear and the unknown looks like. Then I read this sort of unexpected, brilliant sequence of words and I am reminded once again of the kind of freedom I yearn for, and it helps me fleece courage from my darkness and turn my head stubbornly toward the sun, or, in the bleakest of times, simply the knowledge that it’s there.

What incredible heights could you reach within, if you were to be hungry only for the right things?