The utopian ideal for many is to find a line of work that feeds our passion for life, while also earning us a comfortable lifestyle.
Inevitably, the comfort of the material rewards for such a pursuit, for those of us fortunate enough to discover our passion, slowly distracts us from that unadulterated passion that once drove us, only to be replaced by the fear of losing the means that sustains our quality of life.
Similarly, we lose focus on what quality of life really means, and become distracted by convenience of life while assuming that to be the accomplishment worth protecting.
The soul is soon neglected and the belly becomes the master that drives the decisions that shape our efforts.
It sometimes takes years, if ever, for us to realise that we lost our way.
For those that are again fortunate enough to realise this unfortunate shift, gathering the resolve and the courage to redirect our focus to our passion at the risk of downgrading our lifestyle becomes a trial that brutally separates the adults from the meek.
Too many willingly surrender to the system while claiming impotence in their efforts to avoid acknowledging their weakness for the indulgence of their belly.
They’re the ones who grow diseased and bitter, each day needing more distractions than before to keep them steady on the path of servitude that they chose.
Servitude without fulfilment. Thus has this world become tainted with the bitter cowards who would much rather blame the world for their lack of resolve, than accept responsibility for their gluttonous appetite for the trinkets of delusions that parade as success.
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Gluttonous distractions
