Test It in the Fire

We dream in comfort.

We dream on soft couches,
in the warm silence of our homes,
while the coffee is warm
and the world feels safe.

But dreams born only in comfort…
rarely survive the storm.

Yesterday, I had to check mine.

I needed to know if my goals were real
if they were forged in truth, or just fantasy wrapped in ease.

So I stepped out.
Into the rain.
With a backpack filled with 45 pounds of steel
and a 20-inch box.

Ten rounds.
100 box step-ups.
1,000-meter run after each.

Ten times.
Alone.

Somewhere between rounds four and five, I cried uncontrollably.
Not just because of the pain
but because something was leaving me.
Something old.
Something broken.
Something untrue.

You see, I don’t call it exercise.
I call it exorcism.

You want to cast out the voices in your head
that whisper you're not enough?
You want to silence the ghosts
of shame, fear, regret, comparison?
You want to heal the wounds you’ve carried for twenty years?

You won’t do it in a climate-controlled room.

This is ancient.
It’s primal.
Rites of passage are not new.
Humans have walked through fire,
endured cold, hunger, solitude
not for punishment,
but for rebirth.

Because you can only be born into your truest self
in the face of real, undeniable hardship.

Seneca wrote:

“I judge you unfortunate because you have never lived through misfortune. You have passed through life without an opponent—no one can ever know what you are capable of, not even you.”

That is not cruelty.
That is clarity.

This is not a message of brutality.
This is not some performance of toxic masculinity.

This is a message of hope.

Your body is your temple
but a temple must withstand hurricanes,
not just bask in the sun.

And the storms will come.
The cold will come.
The failure. The heartbreak. The doubt. The silence.

And so
You have a dream?
A vision?
A mission for your life?

Test it.

Test it by testing your character.

Step out.
Feel the cold water and say thank you.
Feel the steep hill and say thank you.
Feel the fire in your lungs and say thank you.

Because that fire is your compass.
It burns away what isn’t real.
It purifies.

Don’t ask for it to be easier.
Ask to be clearer.

Run.
Lift.
Cry.
Break.

And in the breaking meet yourself.

This is how you learn the difference
between a fantasy
and a calling.

This is true love.
Not comfort.
But commitment.

This is not motivation.
This is soul-work.

And it’s available to you now.
Right here.
In the real world.
In the rain.
In the hurt.
In the truth.