The addict seeks to escape the pain of being human in one of two ways — by transcending it or by anesthetizing it. Borne aloft by powerful enough chemicals, we can almost, if we're lucky, glimpse the face of the Infinite. If that doesn't work, we can always pass out. Both ways work. The pain goes away. The artist takes a different tack. She tries to reach the upper realm not by chemicals but by labor and love. (When I say "artist," I mean as well the lover, the holy man, the engineer, the mother, the warrior, the inventor, the singer, the sage, and the voyager. And remember, addict and artist
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