Every day, I do things that make my soul grow.  Sometimes, I mean the cliché frou-frou crap you hear from old people about taking advantage of your circumstances, seizing the moments, and prioritizing your life.  But other times, I mean things as simple as accommodating my own trite desires.  For example, I had three hours of work to do today and a four-hour window to do it in. My work happened to take me down to Greenwich Village, so I brought my sick roommate, who’s been locked up in our shit-hole apartment for about two weeks, and I left him in the nearby Caffe Reggio – home of the original cappuccino, a place so rich with the history of Greenwich Village it’s hard to breathe without smelling Hemingway and Sartre – and did my work. After which, we hiked our backpacks over our shoulders and took a few laps around Washington Square Park, eavesdropping on as many conversations as we could muster, walking around the brownstone-rich neighborhoods, dappled with coffee shops and high-end boutiques, wealthy spirits, and tree-littered streets.  I slid my phone into my pocket – on loud and vibrate, I’m not a monster – and looked into as many faces as my curious eyes could manage.  People in our generation don’t look into eyes anymore.  So, walking down these streets around W 4th St and Waverly PL, I craned my neck to make eye contact with as many types (fr.) as possible. 

So, do something today that makes your soul grow.  something for you. Indulge a whim. It’s the best medicine.