I write to you under the steady gaze of a life-sized cardboard cutout of Danny DeVito—the lone witness to a decade of work, study, struggle and search. His face, forever on the verge of laughter, grants just enough courage to come out of the cave. Take life a little less seriously, and share a bit of the soul.

But before Danny, there was Bill.

Bill is Confucius: “Every man has two lives, and the second starts when he realises he has just one.” Not the actor Bill, nor the public persona, but Bill Bill—the “I’m busy living” Bill.

The audacity to be represented by a solitary answering machine, as the story goes, and a few kind words. The idea of directing life, designing it beyond mere presentation. Living it. No cookie-cutter career or cardboard cutout personality. Another way, a Hunter S. Thompson way...with slightly less drugs and Chivas Regal.

I didn’t know if I admired it or feared it. I was very much in awe but absolutely terrified to try it. See, there is no playbook, no guidelines, no direction, no feedback... nothing. No-one to fall back on. They were all busy living. Some, too busy crashing into their coffins to have time to ask for tips.

Still, there were scraps in stories—stories of those who had done it. Some penned by the authors of their own lives, others by those recalling it from the sidelines. Prose comically laced with worry, mild confusion, and quiet wonder.

For reassurance, I read about these archetypal hermits, scallywags, and thinkers. Charting their own course across material, mental, or spiritual seas. In the vain hope, that between the words on the page, they might leave some residue of bravery for me to mop up. There never was any. Each tale, in their own way, pointed to it being found in the work, effort, practice, and through the uncertainty. The message was don’t stand still. Do, act, make—So, clumsily, I did.

Daily, I’m reminded there is a better version of Danny out there. A Bill being just Bill, busy living. An unpublished account of Hunter that is just too high on life to be printed. That there is a difference between our cardboard cutouts, characters, and constitution. The former is not up to us. The characters we play are mere investigations of life. Our constitution, however, demands we let curiosity have its way with wonder, and win.

Like Phaëton, the fool, with the horses of ignorance and stubbornness at my side, curiosity did win. What began as a six-month experiment of killing every aspect of myself as a Designer, slowly then suddenly, became a decade.

...But in reflection. Bill—and Confucius—still remind me: Time doesn’t care about the roles you play. So play them all. Play them well. Play like you only get one go—because really, you do.

Find what you love and do more of that. I love thinking about how all ‘this’ works; by reading, creating, designing, and translating great stories into visions. All for a chance to converse with beauty. So, for ten years, that is what I did—that is all I did.

I’m still at it. Led by good stories. Those with visions that seek out the function of natures secrets. Point to some soul in the source code. Carve a new path. Create a chance of living a good story.

I do know now the good ones last, they echo, and rhyme across the ages. The great ones inspire you to participate. The best will be written in retrospect because they are busy living, being created now.