Reflection on Today's Quote
Hunger makes fools of saints and cynics alike. I’ve watched my own patience evaporate because I tried to “power through” on fumes. Thoughts tangle. Affection gets thin and brittle. Sleep becomes a negotiation instead of a gift. It’s not moral failure; it’s biology knocking on the door with a spoon.
“Dined well” isn’t gluttony. It’s respect. It’s admitting that the mind is a tenant and the body is the landlord. Pay the rent and the lights stay on. Skip it and every room goes dim: you misread a friend’s tone, you miss the thread of a great idea, you lie awake scrolling because your nervous system never got the signal to stand down.
How many arguments were just low blood sugar in disguise? How many half-finished projects were actually half-fed people? We treat meals like errands—something to check off—when they’re closer to maintenance, or maybe even worship. A plate can be a small altar: color, heat, smell, the simple proof that life still wants you here. Feed the creature and the poet wakes up. Feed the creature and love gets softer around the edges. Feed the creature and sleep takes you quickly, like a friend pulling you into a safe room.
So yes—think deeply, love fiercely, sleep like a stone. Start at the table. Not because food is everything, but because without it, everything else gets blurry.
Step Up To The Challenge
Choose one meal today and treat it like a ritual. Sit down. No phone. A real plate. Protein, plants, something you truly enjoy. Breathe before the first bite. Chew slowly. When you finish, write one sentence: How did this change my mood or focus? Then act on it—send the message, start the page, apologize, or nap. Feed first; do the thing second.
