When a child, relatives remark on how much we’ve grown. How much we’ve changed. But as adults it is about being responsible and predictable. So many people rely on us to be what they need us to be that we end up not being ourselves. For creative types, this pseudo-life is like being buried alive. I know. I just dug myself out of my grave. The air is sharp as I start breathing again. Colors are dull and sound is muffled. If I concentrate I can make out words from the dissonance of the here and now. Some human, some not. I rub my eyes to bring the world in better focus but it only gets so clear. Like rising out of bed and stretching, it is time to reach out to the world again. Expand, embody, evolve.