I woke up the way no dignified human should ever wake up.

Dark room. Early hour. Peaceful silence.

Then. Bam!!!

A completely uninvited Otis, rear-end parked squarely in my face, dingle berries and all.

I kept my eyelids tight. I just knew, then cracked an eye open.

There he was. Standing tall. Tail flicking like a metronome.
Waiting.

“You’re late,” Otis says, “get up!”

I groan something unintelligible into the pillow.

Otis doesn’t care.

“You are accomplishing more now than ever,” he continues, “Yet the fire in you has dimmed.”

The work is getting done. The systems are tighter. The output is higher.

The burn isn’t what it used to be.

Otis hops down onto the nightstand, slow and deliberate.

“You have become comfortable in your prowess,” he says. “That’s the danger zone most creators never see coming. Not failure, collapse, or chaos. Comfort.”

Arching his back, “There was a time when the mornings had voltage in them. You remember that season. You had to fight for every inch of consistency. No autopilot. No cushion. No illusions. Just fuel…and will.”

Otis stares straight through me. “Get the fire back.”

Pause.

Tail flick.

“TIK TOK. TIK TOK.” 

Otis jumped off the nightstand and starts toward the door, and fires one last shot:

“Impressive output means nothing if the fire goes cold.”

Can We Help You?

Has comfort replaced the fire that once drove the work?

Share this with a creator who might need the same wake-up call.

Drop a comment and tell us: Is the fire still there?

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