*Typing*

To desire something is to want something.

Some desire is beneficial.

If we didn't desire sustenance, we would starve. If we didn't desire shelter, we would freeze to death or be swept away in some tropical storm. If we didn't desire love and connection, we would slowly––and then rather suddenly––die off.

Desire is tremendously powerful. After gravity, it might be the most formidable force on the planet. If we rule over our desire, it can be a lifelong source of fuel that burns inside each of us, allowing us to chase down our dreams and provide for both ourselves and others.

However, if we allow desire to rule over us, it will burn us alive from the inside out like a house fire.

The first sign of smoke is when desire gives way to desperation. Desire and desperation are two sides of the same coin. Desire is wanting something. Desperation is believing you can't live without something.

It's not only the feeling of desperation that destroys us––eating away at our happiness like a parasite––but it's the poor decisions that desperation spawns.

Desperate people do desperate things. It's these acts of desperation that lead to our destruction.

Desire is a flame. Desperation is the moth, flying towards it.

You should create art for yourself.

You should paint paintings you want to gaze at. You should pen poems you want to read. You should write songs you want to listen to.

Creating art strictly for yourself is the only sure-fire way to create something that has a chance of resonating with others.

Your perspective is unique, yes––as is your experience and taste. But, your perspective, experience and taste are not singular.

Others share in this uniqueness; and by witnessing this uniqueness at work, they will feel understood.

When something good drifts into your immediate vicinity, your natural inclination is to reach out and grab it. But, good things aren't unlike Monarch butterflies in that if you reach out and grab them, you will almost certainly scare them away––or, worst yet, crush them.

Many of good things have been made bad at the hands of impatience and desperation. Instead, you must create the proper conditions for good opportunities to find you. You must show up, work hard and be generous.

Once you've created these conditions, you must then recognize that everything else is out of your control. If the Monarch chooses to land on your shoulder or some else's shoulder isn't really up to you. It's up to the wind and which direction it's choosing to move. It's more or less a matter of luck. Humans have been trying to control luck for centuries. It has left many broke, broken-hearted and dead. You can't control fate just like you can't lasso an F5 tornado.

This is perhaps the most difficult truth to accept: that we can show up, work hard, be generous and still not get what we want. However, relinquishing control allows you to remain still, calm, centered and content during the inevitable moments in life when you aren't getting exactly what you want.

And when it hurts––not getting what you want––try to remember that while you may want it, you don't need it.

You need so very little to be happy.

One definition of strength is the ability to withstand great force. Another definition of strength is the ability to ask for help so that you can withstand great force. We struggle accepting this latter definition because we struggle to ask for help.

We've been conditioned to believe that true strength is rubbing some dirt on it, pulling ourselves up by our bootstraps, putting our heads down and getting to work. Strength is all of these things. But, strength is also so much more.

Boxers have corners.

Formula 1 drivers have pit crews.

Astronauts have mission control.

Knights had squires.

The list goes on.

Strength in life, love and work requires help. Anyone who thinks otherwise suffers from extreme hubris and isn't truly strong. What separates men from boys and women from girls is their awareness to recognize when they need help and the humility to ask for it.

Asking for help won't only make you stronger, it will build stronger bonds and relationships with the people in your life you care about most. We feel closer to the people who ask us for help. We feel a sense of responsibility to the people who ask us for help. We feel love towards the people who ask us for help.

So, ask for help.

Let me repeat that:

Prolific output leads to profound work.

Isaac Asimov wrote 500 books (and an estimated 90,000 letters).

Emily Dickinson penned 1,800 poems.

David Bowie recorded 400 songs.

Pablo Picasso created 50,000 works of art.

Andy Warhol: 9,000.

Katsushika Hokusai: 30,000.

Georgia O'Keeffe: 2,000.

Salvador Dalí: 1,500.

Paul Cézanne: 1,000.

Henri Matisse: 1,000.

Your responsibility as an artist isn't to be perfect.

It's to be prolific.

With time, you will create something profound.