The artist over the critic, the maker over the collector, the writer over the reader. Once we become creators rather than passive consumers and dive deep in, we preserve our own history.
Ignoring our calling to shake off a responsibility merely postpones an itch that intensifies with time. Unlike robots, humans are light inside. We want to live the stories we see in our heads, otherwise, what’s the point of slogging on to work that fails to define us?
We can put a fence around our intuition and simply buy things to feel better. But investing in our own heads and hands produces manifest discreteness. Individuality is happiness. How are we going to ed if we can’t be ourselves?