Week 35
Divine Spark
~2 min read · VI. Agency
Promise
Claim the terrifying truth: you are not a child of the universe. You are its creator in this moment.
Reset
Inhale for 6 seconds, pulling the entire universe into your chest.
Hold for 6, feeling the pressure of infinity.
Exhale for 10, slow, like you are exhaling galaxies.
Do it five times.
On the last exhale, say through clenched teeth: “I made this.”
Reflection
Whatever “God” is supposed to mean, I stopped looking for it in doctrine a long time ago.
The churches of my childhood taught fear, hierarchy, and obedience — a God who watched, judged, and kept score.
But the older I got, the more hollow that version felt.
I had seen too much suffering, too much neglect, too much cruelty hiding behind scripture to believe divinity lived in institutions.
My definition shifted slowly,
through collapse after collapse.
It changed the night I sat on the floor debating if I wanted to exist.
It changed when my daughters rushed into a hospital room believing
they might lose me.
It changed every time I chose truth over approval,
responsibility over escape,
action over apathy.
Somewhere along the way, I realized:
If there is a divine spark, it’s not “out there.”
It’s the moment you take responsibility for your own life.
Not in prayers said,
but in choices made.
Not in religious systems,
but in how fiercely you protect what matters.
Not in faith handed to you,
but in the courage to ask:
If no one is coming to save me, who must I become?
Divinity, for me, became indistinguishable from accountability.
From integrity.
From the willingness to stand up, even when the world you built collapses beneath you.
If God exists anywhere in my life, it is here:[
]In the spark that ignites every time I choose agency over surrender.
Where does responsibility in your life feel more sacred than belief?
Challenges
Start
Place your hand on your chest, and say aloud: “I am the creator here.”
Stretch
Every day this week, make one deliberate act of creation with zero regard for approval: write the forbidden words, build the thing, speak the truth that will cost you. Sign every creation with your name like a god signing a universe.
Deep-dive
This week, do the one thing you have always believed was blasphemous, impossible, or reserved for “higher powers”: Launch the project that terrifies you. End the dynasty of fear in your family line. Claim the power you’ve been pretending belongs to someone else. Do it publicly. Do it loud. Do it irreversible. Then stand in the fallout and declare, aloud, to whoever will hear: “This is what happens when the spark remembers it is the fire.” Let them feel the heat.
I do not ask. I am.
Emotional tone · blasphemous