Learning to grow when the inspiration disappears

Some moments hit us like lightning.
A loss that cracks us open.
A flash of clarity that lifts the fog.
A spiritual high where everything feels alive — awake — infinite.

And in that moment, we tell ourselves:
“I’ll never go back. This changed me forever.”

But then… we do.
The pain softens. The clarity fades. The fire dies down.
And we’re left wondering:
Was it real? Did I really change? Why does it feel so far away now?


From “Zeh Keili V’anveihu” to… the Golden Calf?

Bnei Yisrael walked through split seas.
They pointed and said, “Zeh Keili v’anveihu” — “This is my G-d, and I will glorify Him.”
Even the simplest person saw more than most of the greatest prophets ever would.

And then they stood at Har Sinai and heard the voice of Hashem directly.
The highest spiritual peak in human history.

So how — how — did these same people end up dancing around a golden calf?

It’s not just their question.
It’s ours.

How do we go from feeling on fire to feeling lost?
From inspired… to indifferent?
From clarity… to confusion?

The answer isn’t a flaw in the system.
It is the system.


If the Fire Never Faded, There’d Be No Free Will

If Hashem kept us in that state of perfect clarity, we’d never fall.
But we also wouldn’t rise.
We’d be angels — programmed to obey. No choice. No growth. No greatness.

But Hashem didn’t create us to be angels.
He created us to choose.

So He steps back.
He hides.
He lets the inspiration fade… just enough to give us the space to decide:
Will you keep going?
Will you hold onto the light, even when you can’t feel its warmth?

That’s the gift of forgetting.
It gives us the chance to grow on purpose.


The Candle That Reignited

When I was 15, I lost one of the most important people in my life — my Zaidy.

He was my teacher. My role model. My best friend.
He taught me how to lain, how to daven, how to live.

And when he passed away, I felt like a part of me had gone out with him.

That first Yom Tov without him, I sat at the table, watching the candles flicker after the meal.
One of them burned down… and went out.

I just stared at it.
It felt like a sign. The flame is gone. The light is over.

And then — somehow — it reignited.
I can’t explain how. Maybe the heat of the other candles.
But in that moment, it didn’t matter.

Hashem was whispering:
The soul doesn’t vanish. The flame doesn’t die. This isn’t the end.


He Was Still Teaching Me

My Zaidy had been teaching me how to lain Megillat Esther.
He passed away in the middle. I thought I’d never finish.

But I had a recording of him — his voice, his trop.
So I kept going. I copied him exactly. Every word. Every note.
Especially the parts he lained differently than anyone else.

Years later, I found out why:
Those were the pesukim where Hashem’s name is hidden in the Megillah.

Even after he was gone…
He was still teaching me.

And now, every time I lain the Megillah, I feel him next to me.
Every time I act on something he taught me, I’m keeping his flame alive.
Even if I don’t feel it every second — it’s there.


Life Isn’t a Flatline

You know what a flatline on a heart monitor means?
Death.

Real life moves.
Up and down. Highs and lows. Joy and pain. Clarity and confusion.
That’s what makes us alive.

Inspiration lifts us. Pain humbles us.
Both are meant to change us — not to stay forever, but to leave something behind.
The question isn’t whether we’ll always feel it.
It’s whether we’ll carry it with us — and live differently because of it.

And more than that — it’s what we do with those ups and downs that defines us.
Hashem gives us tools through every experience:
Pain builds compassion.
Inspiration gives direction.
Loss sharpens our vision.
And forgetting… gives us free will.

We’re not meant to stay in the fire.
We’re meant to carry its light into the rest of our life.


This Week’s Reflection

Think back to a moment that once lit a fire in you.
A high, a breakthrough, a loss, a lesson.
Something that changed you — even if the fire has faded.

What part of it can you still carry with you?
What spark can you reignite today?

Because the fire doesn’t need to burn forever to change your life.
You just need to take its light…
And walk forward with it.

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