It was revealed to me that these habits of mine were a subconscious longing of the soul to abide with its Creator. Going from place to place, high to high, living life in a cloudy haze... I was filling my cistern with all manner of unclean things, but they never satisfied with permanence. The unclean waters would leak out from the broken pot so to speak, but when you put it in the Potter's hands, and He reveals His face to you, even for just a moment, I knew nothing could ever compare. I take that for granted sometimes, but I won't go back. There isn't even any desire left for them, the mere idea of them brings feelings of disgust and grief. It's hard to believe I ever felt otherwise. Thank you Lord. Nevertheless it is not I who lives, but Christ within me. I intend on keeping the old man dead.