I finished reading another Don Miller book last night. I became anxious as I approached the last two chapters, cautious that I didn't read too quickly but thirsty to absorb each carefully-constructed concluding thought. After I finished the last paragraph (and piddled a minute over the book jacket for the 100th time) I slowly closed the book. I felt satisfied. And simultaneously discontent because Miller's book had challenged me to lead a greater life than the one I was pursuing only 200 pages before.

As I closed the book, I leaned firmly into my pillows and released a long, contemplative sigh. I wanted to stay in that moment for hours. That single minute where all your thoughts and hopes are swarming like charged electrons on the brink of a magical connection: a new life vision. Like a dream you're afraid to wake from... but more afraid to awaken.

I sat alone in my room considering the enchanting summons I'd received from Miller's book and I thought to myself two little things:
(1) A good book is like a good bath... something you want to sit in for a while and enjoy as long as humanly possible.
(2) I must arise from my pattern of self-focus and lead a life of greater meaning.

And so I leave you with this, "Either write something worth reading or do something worth writing." -Ben Franklin.

I intend to do both.