“The objects I chose were designed to hold something, but I didn’t fill them up. They remained empty. They were little symbolic shrines to thirst.” ― Margaret Atwood, Moral Disorder: and Other Stories
We thirst for life. For love. For excitement. For more of whatever we have.
We sit waiting for someone to bring us a drink of water. We look to the sky for signs of rain.
When we drink, we are quenched. For a while, at least. Then we want more.
Those are the times we must dig our own wells to water the flowers within.
We really do know what we must do to quench the thirst deep inside.
Perhaps, we’re afraid of drowning. But weren’t we petrified of drying out? Of not fulfilling the call of our souls?
When the drought hits, we must go forth in search of water. When thirsty, we must drink.