Finding The Spark

There is a gas stove that is about my age sitting in our kitchen and it had been faithfully serving us for well over twenty years. As is expected with its age, the stove is hardly perfect. The flame on one of the hobs would simply die out if you try to lower the heat while I haven’t seen the spark of another kicking the gas alight for more than ten years.

The biggest hob is the most troublesome of the functioning three as there are days when the gas simply refuses the light and you need a match to get it started. And if you’re pressed for time or simply lacking on motivation, it’s just too much trouble to hunt for a matchbox or a candle to catch the fire from another hob just to get it started.

And like its peer, I have days when I wake up with a roaring spirit brimming on exuberance and I work on the chores or projects of the day with a singing heart. Ideas after ideas are lighting the bulbs in my head as I pick a few to be my passion projects and label the others as ‘to-be-considered’. Every step is rewarded with a sense of purpose and quiet satisfaction. Every thought is treated as a possibility and I turn the house upside-down with my “let’s do this NOW!”

But sometimes I wake up to a dark, bluish tint as the world is enshrouded in cumulonimbus clouds. Without the sun to light up the flowers in my garden, my eyes catch only the weeds that pop out of nooks and crevices. All around me, I can only see shadows of quenched dreams, failed expeditions and love lost. The knolls I skipped over everyday become imposing mountains that laugh in my face. And the fire, the fire that used to burn so brightly, now fizzles away in the rain.

But just because the knob on the gas stove wouldn’t work, it doesn’t mean that my only choice is to buy my meal. There is always the lighter or the matchstick. There are two more smaller hobs that I could use with a little tweak of the recipe. There’s also the oven and the rice cooker if I’m feeling more adventurous. All I need is a bit of determination.

And although it is harder when the raincloud filter is in my own eyes, it doesn’t mean that I couldn’t do anything simply because it is too dark for me to see. Just because I am blinded to the light, it doesn’t mean that it isn’t there. Even in the bleakest of nights, we are reminded of the bright sun by the gentle glow it lends to the moon. And with eyes so dark that I forget the images of my own sight, I can still find that spark to relight my fire as long as I have my faith to fuel my heart.

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