There comes a moment, rare, electric, when something suddenly flares.
A spark!
A spark of recognition.
You suddenly see that you are not the story you have been telling yourself.
Not the roles.
Not the wounds.
Not the ambition.
Not the mask.
You are something far more vast, far more silent, far more alive.
This spark is precious. It does not visit everyone. Most people remain hypnotized by the drama of their own imagination, lost in thought, lost in identity, mistaking the outer noise for themselves.
But when this recognition dawns, even briefly, nothing is quite the same again.
The Journey begins there.
Guard that spark.
Nurture it.
Let it become a flame.
Yes! This spark of recognition is precious. It must not be wasted.
It has not come accidentally.
It is not a mood.
It is not a passing …










