Neither head-doctor nor spelunker, more gardener – penetrating earth, planting seeds, watching new growth which creates something new, grows something new. Every animal procreating does. Every couple making a child does. Every writer too with every reader does – deep reaching, dropping potent ideas into fertile minds. First to page, then by eye to grow in our mind.
Not so much feeling ‘I’m not yet satisfied’ as ceaseless curiosity – holding true to belief (perhaps I mean faith), in deepening knowledge of self because we expect there is value in knowing more, satisfying thirst for some quenching revelation.
When we ask our quiet selves – having felt change inwardly, reaching some deeper level of raison d'être, shouldn’t that be like digging a hole where eventually we reach bottom, dredging up what we were after?