waiting for the spark
That’s where most lives pause, not in failure, not in fear, but in anticipation. We wait for permission. For clarity. For the perfect moment when confidence arrives fully formed and taps us on the shoulder. We imagine the spark as something external; a person, a promotion, a lottery win, a sign from the universe that says now.
But fire doesn’t work that way.
Fire is not granted. It’s uncovered. maybe earned.
Every one of us carries something combustible—an idea we keep circling, a conviction we keep quiet, a version of ourselves we rehearse but never release. The tragedy isn’t that the fire isn’t there. It’s that we’ve mistaken patience for preparation, and waiting for wisdom.
The spark is rarely dramatic. It doesn’t arrive with applause or certainty. It’s usually pretty small and faint. More often, it shows up disguised as discomfort. As restlessness. As that low-grade irritation you feel when your days start looking too similar, when your potential feels underutilized, when you know—quietly but clearly—that you are capable of more.
That feeling isn’t a problem. It’s kindling.
We’ve been taught to fear burning—burning bridges, burning out, burning too bright. So we dampen ourselves. We stay reasonable. We choose safe trajectories over honest ones. And in doing so, we confuse stability with fulfillment.
But fire was never meant to be comfortable. It was meant to burn.
The people who change their lives aren’t braver than everyone else. They’re just more honest about what already burns inside them. They stop asking, What if this fails? and start asking, What if this is the thing that finally lets me live fully awake?
You don’t need a new personality.
You don’t need perfect timing.
You don’t need everyone to understand.
You need Fuel. Heat. Oxygen.
Feed the flame by showing up consistently, even when the results are invisible. Protect it—not from criticism, but from the pebbles.
Because the fire doesn’t go out when others doubt you.
It goes out when you stop tending it.
There’s a fire in all of us.
Not to burn—but to illuminate.
Not to impress—but to become.
And the spark you’re waiting for?
It’s you.
