An author kicking a can down the road met an artist also kicking a can down the road.

“Nice can,” said the author.

“Thanks, it’s a Campbell’s soup can,” replied the artist. “It represents a semi-ironic embrace of the commercialization of popular culture.”

“Cool,” said the author, pausing to process that information. “Why are you kicking it?”

“Because it’s not me, and it never will be,” declared the artist defiantly. “The system wants me to make art for profit, but I know what inspires me, and I know it’s not money.”

“I see,” said the author, becoming lost in thought, watching the bouncing of the artist’s can.

“What about you?” asked the artist as the distracted author stumbled. “What does your can represent, and why are you kicking it?”

The author fumbled to pick up a silvery, slightly crushed tin can. “This can is the ‘can’ that I think I can,” said the author with some pride. “In other words, someday I will know I can, but for now I only think.” The author became crestfallen at the thought.

The artist had no idea what the author had just said, but persisted with the inquiry anyway. “So why do you kick it?”

“Because I can never think I can,” whined the author, clearly dejected. “I try to write confidently, but my doubts drag me down into a pit of self-pity.”

“Ohh,” said the artist, beginning to understand. “So the can is what you can do if you put your mind to it, and you kick it because…”

“Because I can’t put my mind to anything, really.”

The artist offered words of sympathy and encouragement as the author resumed kicking the can. Ultimately though, those words were hollow, because the artist’s can was in a superior league. (It was brand name, after all.) The artist could not comprehend a can that couldn’t do, when the artist’s own can simply wouldn’t do. The artist had a choice.

“But y’know,” said the artist, “I don’t really have a choice either. It may be vanity, but I feel obliged to follow my passions.”

“I get what you mean,” replied the author with a nod. “In the end, it is passion that leads us down this road.”

For a brief moment, they basked in mutual understanding. Then they came upon a bend in the road. With a glance at each other, they made a majestic final kick to send their cans tumbling off the turn and out of sight. Then together they walked down the road, chatting about life.