My friend Angela really captures a glimpse of what it means to be grateful for the little things…for everything, really…and in doing so, to really live.
My breakfast ideas use to be bigger than this. My hopes of an authentic being were barely formed. Though, breakfast was always a delightful break in the bullshit of a day that I knew was coming like a semi down I-75. What happened to my taking pleasure in beginning my day? Is it my ill-tolerance for bread that shot me down? Perhaps I began valuing sleep more than culinary creative expression. If I just gained more sleep I would…I would…eventually feel more tired and fatigued throughout the day (blah). Let’s be real. If I can no longer find excitement in my breakfast, then what will the rest of my day be like?
I’m reading my Simple Abundance almost religiously. I’ve noticed I read it, set it down and barely think about its meditations or contemplations. How can I focus when I have so many other useless things scratching at my…
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