I love Bruce Springsteen. He is one of the most gifted storytellers with a special aptitude to capture the everyday human struggle. I wrote Spark as a response to life’s latest struggles chipping away at me.
Springsteen’s song, “Dancing in the Dark,” never ceases to inspire me to keep moving, even when I have no roadmap to where I’m going.

“You can’t start a fire without a spark

  This gun’s for hire

 Even if we’re just dancing in the dark.”

                               ––––Bruce Springsteen 

                                            Spark                 

I walk around the room, but the flickering and dimming lights make it hard to find my way. I enter another room, yet every place I go looks the same. It’s getting harder to move, to find my way in this darkness. After all the endless wandering, I am tired. I stop to sit and rest. But after sitting for a while, I realize I’ve been staying stationary so long that I’ve become stagnant and stoic. I slowly rise and search for any illuminating sign to help me leave this dark space. It’s time to move.

I turn towards the long corridor and catch a glimpse of a glow. While walking towards this sign of light, I’m reminded of life’s simple pleasures that have always fueled my soul with the oxygen it needs. I now know what I need to do. I must return.

2022 was rough––full of unwanted departures, letdowns, and nos. This is why I’ve walked into 2023 with zero expectations. That means no New Year resolutions. (Studies show that 80 percent of New Year’s resolutions fail by the second week of February, anyway.) And no word of the year. Instead, all I aspire for this year is enough spark to get that fire burning in me once more. 

This year, I will stop and record the world around me: I will return to the mighty pen and find the words that tell my story in the middle of the mundane. I will continue to move. I will return to unabashedly fresh postings that breathe and burn with life. I will make more of what is around me by listening attentively to beautiful middle school tales––intaking animals and nature––seeking God.

As I get closer to the lighted space, I feel no need to turn back. I know I can keep the dead near––the memories. I can see them for the beauty of the day, but I need to remember there are more memories to be made.   And these new memories need me to tell their story. I need to keep moving. My album is not complete yet.

 I’ve learned to find peace in having no blueprint: I will navigate life through the unknown. But how do I survive the shock that the unknown brings? I can’t stay still. I have to take my shot. I must keep the spark to help me stay dancing in the dark.

Thank you, Mr. Springsteen. Your song has rescued me more than once.