⚡️Blizzard, Lightning, Me

They say the night I was born, a blizzard collided with a lightning storm.

Snow swirling sideways. Sky split open.

The elements weren’t in conflict, they were conspiring. Calling something in. A force.

Me.

I’ve always loved that story. Not because it makes me feel special, but because it reminds me that power isn’t something you find, it’s something you remember.

Something that’s always been inside you, waiting for the right conditions to roar.

But here’s the thing:

You can’t hold big energy until you’ve earned it.

And by earned, I don’t mean proved.

I mean softened. Cracked open. Lived.

The Secret Sauce

People sometimes ask me what my “secret sauce” is.

Why my words land the way they do.

Why something in them sparks a memory, a longing, a quiet yes.

The truth is: it’s not what I’ve studied.

It’s what I’ve lived.

I’ve sat at the intersection of science and soul.

Worked in labs. Spoken in boardrooms.

Slept under stars. Wept under the desert sun.

Laughed too loud in places I didn’t belong.

And walked through fire I wouldn’t wish on anyone.

Through it all, I wasn’t becoming something.

I was remembering who I already was,

That mighty force.

That lightning-born clarity.

That deep-rooted, blizzard-fed stillness.

I had to break apart to rebuild the vessel strong enough to hold what I’d always carried.

Why It Matters

This isn’t a redemption arc.

It’s a homecoming.

We all carry power.

But most of us were taught to shrink it. To package it.

To only let it out on special occasions, when it’s neat, tidy, or profitable.

But real energy doesn’t arrive on command.

It rises when we quiet the noise.

When the storm clears.

When we stop bracing and start listening.

There’s nothing to fix.

No mask to wear.

Just the electric truth that’s been waiting for space to rise.

You don’t have to become anything.

You just have to remember what you’ve always been.