A spark has been placed in you.
That sentence is difficult to grasp. It took me most of a lifetime. And yet it is so straightforward.
If you struggle with it, allow me to help you along.
The spark was there before you chose anything at all. Before upbringing, before education, before titles, before all the explanations you have since layered onto your life. A beloved child has many names in our culture. A soul. A meaning. A direction that is yours, only yours, and no one else's.
You did not invent it yourself. None of us did. It is placed - and it is placed with intention. Do not ask me why you specifically, and why that one specifically. None of us knows.
But one thing we know - nothing is created by accident.
For three thousand years humanity has known it. Across cultures, languages and continents that never met one another - everywhere the same - something luminous has been placed in Man.
The culture has told you the opposite for eighty years now. That you are a meaningless accident. Dust and chemistry and a blink between two darknesses. That is the great Lie - and it has a Father who set it in circulation with a single hope - that you would forget you are luminous.
Because he hates Light.
But stop. Let us forget him for a moment.
Listen.
Because there is a Call within it. The spark.
The Call speaks quietly, but it speaks and always circles the same thing - Create something. Change something. Release what is not you, and become who you were placed into the world as.
And notice the direction here -
It always points through you - outward toward someone.
You know it well.
It is the thought that keeps returning, no matter how many years you park it. The manuscript in the drawer. The course you never launched. The workshop you never set up. The relationship you stayed in from fear and not from love. The job you dreamed of but never applied for. The thing you say "one day" about - and have said "one day" about for a long time now.
It is not a dream. It is an address. Because the Call knows where you live, and where you belong.
And the deepest part of you knows what reality could look like - if you followed it.
But somewhere along the way the voice was strangled. For most of us. And the hand on the throat was rarely a stranger's.
It was your own.
You talked yourself out of it. With voices you had borrowed -
"Who do you think you are?"
"There are others who do it better."
"There is no money in that."
"You are not that kind of person."
"You should have done that twenty years ago."
"Wait until it suits better."
...and the time when it should suit better - never came.
Because the Lie never sounds like a lie. It sounds like reason. It sounds like modesty. That is why it works.
It does not shout. It whispers. So you doubt here, are drawn into hovering thoughts there - until you are pulled apart into so many pieces that none of them can hear the Call anymore.
The Greeks knew it. That voice. They gave it a name according to its method - let me give it to you -
Diabolos.
It means - "The one who casts apart."
The splitting bears his name.
Sink that in while you read on.
Because there are also the voices that come from outside.
You know them. You have certainly met them here on the platform. Everyone who creates has. Without exception. And perhaps that is why you do not even dare comment anymore - because you have seen what happens to those who stick their heads out.
That is how it works. Darkness. It does not even need to hit you to close your mouth. It just has to hit one person you can see.
They do not come with questions. Not with resistance one can grow from. They come to degrade. Ground down. Destroy. Trample. On the most beautiful and most fragile thing a Human being carries at all - that which is beginning to emerge.
Often they psychologise it. Make it pathological. Make it small, because it is still in its tender beginning and is breaking forth. Because it is still easy to destroy before it has gained shape and body.
Notice one thing here, because I have almost never seen this fail - Try to find one person who has created something themselves who speaks that way to others.
I know almost none. And almost never see it.
Everyone who has built something knows how infinitely difficult it is. They know the nights. The doubt. They know what one Human's hand on the back did for them when it was all seedlings - and therefore they reach out their own hand, more than willingly. Set aside other things that were otherwise important. They know they are carriers of something important. And that they were once carried themselves.
That is, by the way, one of the reasons I write.
The contempt that wants to destroy comes from another place. It comes from the unlived. From a spark that was strangled once itself - because it hurts to see another Human do what one did not dare oneself.
Understand it.
And then take my word for the next part.
Even though you understand it. And even though you can find excuses for it.
Still do not accept it.
I know how fragile the flame is. I have tended mine throughout my entire life - the first thirty-two years in defiance and without understanding of its call - and the last twenty extremely consciously, in one unified direction that has strengthened everything in and around me. And even that has not made me immune. None of us are. The fire is fragile - even in those where it burns clearest and strongest.
But let me then give you the most important thing at the end.
The spark does not die from being ignored.
Remember. It is Placed. It is Eternal. Not possible to extinguish.
It waits.
It has waited since you were created. Were born. And from there for ten years. Twenty. Forty. All the way to the outermost day when you draw your last breath.
It goes with you all the way. And no matter when you turn toward it, it waits - and it only stops hurting the moment you pick it up.
It is not too late. It has never been too late.
"Too late" is the Lie's favourite sentence.
And let me then say this very clearly before you hear it wrong - what I am pointing to is not to hide yourself. Not to withdraw, make yourself small and invisible and hope for peace. You have tried that. It gave no peace.
What I am pointing to is the opposite - Build!
Build what calls to you. Openly, visibly, in daylight. And then put a fence around the building site while it stands in its tender growth. That is not flight. That is how one has always built.
If it is you standing with something sprouting - and I know it is, because it is all of us - a faith, a thought, a work, a turn in your life.
And if it is you who put it aside once. Perhaps because you found it so fragile and vulnerable that you hardly dared share it - and Darkness, or just the fear of it, was enough.
Then hear this -
You owe no one access to it.
Not the platform. Not the family. Not the length of friendship. Not the voice in your own head that speaks with borrowed words.
The one who only comes to extinguish has lost the right to stand by the fire.
Guard it. Without anger, without explanation.
And then notice this last thing - you do not have to light it yourself. It is not a project. You just have to turn toward the Light it was placed from - and in the same movement it ignites.
That is how it is created.
Because the spark is placed in you by One who is greater than them.
And He does not take it back. He has placed it in you so that it will lead you - through everything, to Him, all the way Home.
Promise.
Follow it. The Call. Just one tiny little step each day.
❤️🔥🪽
I went this morning for the fifth round on my profile and blocked a handful of profiles that for years have only come by to extinguish.
As I write. No anger. No explanation.
Just a door that was closed quietly - and a text that opened instead to the rest of you.
Lovely that you are here.
Happy Sunday.
