Let the salmon of illumination spawn...

Mediocrity. Bad stuff. It settles for a kind of living death. It lets go of the reigns of our enthusiasm for life and our yearning to experience it fully. It blindly insults those around it by offering a low ceiling to those who want to stand tall. It isn't interested in our interest or in being interesting. It's a tragic compromise that trades joy, laughter, and tears, for a bubble of gunmetal grays.

I heard that a person once actually dared to say, "I'm mediocre." And in that second, in that sad and wildly-inaccurate confession, the universe shuddered. Off the richter scale folks. And looking at this person, I'm told you could actually see billions of bioluminescent spores of excellence and genius straining against the gravitational force of this dulling self-hypnosis. Like a shimmering school of wild salmon swimming furiously against a brown tide of self-doubt.

The prisons we create for ourselves are often invisible. At some level you know you're in jail, but you've forgotten why you put yourself there, and worse still, you've forgotten that there's a world out there literally waiting for your own brand of greatness.