Audacity of Spark

People see a spark in you, a spark of,...something; creativity or talent, something special, they want to take it. Take it and keep it, dissect it. Figure out how it works, why you had it in the first place. Press it to their skin and absorb it, let it flow inside their veins and shine like it did in yours. But it doesn't work that way. I mean, they can take it, but they can't keep it. It disappears. They've only left you less than. But they cannot be more.

Unless you give it. That's the secret. It has to be given, not stolen, not seduced away. I take a piece of myself and give it to you, and then I get to watch you shine. And that can be enough. To receive a piece of you in return, now, that would make us both shine brighter. A small spark of us burning brighter in each other. It's why I smile when I think of you, that spark lights up.

There are people, though, who collect your sparks and they keep them like souvenirs in a jar. And they give nothing of themselves. They like that you like them and they smile at those jars on that shelf and they never consider what it took to give those pieces away. And I'm so happy that my me is recognized that I don't care if I get anything in return. I'm just happy to watch them shine. For a time. And then I start to dim a little. I'm not as bright or as quick or as nice. And I realize I'm giving pieces of myself to them. Pieces. No small thing. And there is nothing left to fill in the spaces. So I leave. I disappear. I repair. 

I walk around with cracks that haven't been filled, not shining as brightly or smiling as easily. Incomplete. But then something reminds me of you, a book or a quote or a song and your spark lights up, the one you gave me, and I feel it shining there; I see it through those cracks. 

If you ever get a note from me, and it's a book or a quote or a song, just know that I was thinking about you. And I want you to shine.

La Madeleine à la veilleuse - Georges de La Tour