Ravenous

“Blessed are you who hunger now, for you will be satisfied.”

—Luke 6:21

I think I may have a larger appetite than most people. I want more food, more time, more people, more places, more parties, more everything. More is a big theme in my life. Other themes in the same vein: hungry, insatiable, and gluttonous.

I’m ravenous in all sorts of ways. I’d like to host a dinner party about every other day. Life is delicious, and I want to gobble it up in big bites, eating, drinking, reading, talking, traveling—everything. I want everything. I’m hungry for everything, all the time. Bookstores make me ravenous, as do city streets and airports and glossy fashion magazines. So much to see, taste, touch, try, do. I can feel myself come to life, eyes open, taking everything in, fingers running over textures, ears pricked for sounds.

Our deepest darknesses are always the other side of the coin of our brightest selves. Exuberance and celebration are wonderful things, and I’m thankful for the ways that they play out in my life. But there’s a darkness under that shimmer, and it keeps me exhausted and running, year after year, always thinking that maybe this time, maybe this time, I can fit it all in, and nothing will fall through my fingers.