Never too much to read, Always too little time

There can never be "too much" to read. Maybe we're so caught in petty pursuits that it seems that way. Go work. Go consume. Go home, sweet, dysfunctional home. Keep going and never stop to live. 

Just keep going. Our "energizer bunny" culture tells us not to stop; it's hard to feel pain when rushed.  If we slow down, will we feel unsatisfied? Frustrated? Exhausted? Will we feel at all? If emotion seeps in, will our ad-sized attention spans turn it off? 

Working isn't always progress; stillness isn't always idleness. Slow down. Slow down, and feel. Feel power-crushing wind gusts. Feel your chapped lips and sore knees. Feel Poe, Beethoven,  Morrison. Feel what your soul yens for, and follow.