Middle of the night. My 2 AM ceiling transforms into a canvas, a lack of light creating the perfect patch of blank page for the mind to paint a masterpiece. A candle sits on the table below, the shadows of a single flame dancing on the darkened ceiling above. I'd never dreamed of being a firefighter. But enough television and movies portrayed the life of flames, the mystery and danger. Free, a moment away from exploding into new spaces, but caged at times. Often, one's own human life and career could be described in much the same way. We mostly stay in our lanes but flirt with new challenges and experience at other times, eating up the oxygen around us and crawling on the walls of our known existence. Until that new burst of energy gives us a boost to explode outside the lines, into new chapters of the canvas before us. Above, the ceiling flame dances as the floor fan provides a soundtrack and oscillating choreography. It paints the canvas overhead, tempting my eyes with it'