A Friday Dispatch from the Edge of Becoming

“If you bring forth what is within you, what you bring forth will save you. If you do not bring forth what is within you, what you do not bring forth will destroy you.”
— The Gospel of Thomas, Saying 70

Some lines don’t whisper truth—they roar it. They show up like ancient lightning in the middle of your day and leave burn marks on your soul. That quote from the Gospel of Thomas? It’s one of them. A desert koan. A soul riddle. A sacred dare.

And if there is a point to all this—this strange adventure called life—it might just be that: to bring forth what is within us. To let the inner fire speak. To not die with our song still locked in our chest.

I’ve been turning this over in my mind like a worry stone all week. The world doesn’t make it easy to honour what’s inside. We’re taught to hide, to shrink, to trade wildness for predictability. Play it safe. Be agreeable. Stay in line. Meanwhile, that buried voice within us—the one that knows who we really are, the one whispering strange and sacred truths in the quiet moments—gets quieter. Not because it’s wrong. But because we’re afraid.

But here’s the truth, written in ancient ink: if you don’t bring it forth, it will destroy you.

Not in some fire-and-brimstone way. But slowly. Quietly. Through a thousand tiny betrayals of self. Through numbness. Disconnection. A vague sense that you’re living someone else’s life. That you missed your own becoming.

It reminds me of the old Greek idea of the daimon—not a demon, but your inner genius, your soul’s unique calling. Socrates said he listened to his daimonion like a spiritual compass. It didn’t tell him what to do. It simply warned him when he was about to betray himself.

Modern psychology might call it the Self. Myth calls it Destiny. I call it the inner fire.

Call it whatever you like—but it’s there. Burning beneath the noise.

And it wants out.

Not for fame. Not for applause. But because it has to. Because it’s you. Because something in this world needs what only you carry. And if you don’t offer it? If you keep it caged? That fire curdles. Turns inward. Eats away at the walls of your life.

Maybe that’s why we see so many people at midlife cracking open. The career didn’t do it. The house didn’t do it. The accolades didn’t do it. Something in them still aches. Because they didn’t bring it forth. Not fully.

I see this again and again in the people I work with, and I’ve walked it myself—still walking it. It’s not always clear what it is, this thing you’re supposed to bring forth. Sometimes it starts as a restlessness. Sometimes as a deep longing. Sometimes it’s a buried memory of who you almost became before the world told you otherwise.

But the deeper work? It’s not about figuring it out like a math problem. It’s about cultivating it like a sacred flame. Listening. Honouring. Expressing. It’s about becoming the one you were born to be—not by mimicking anyone else’s map, but by walking your own mythic path.

That’s the real work. The great work. The art of becoming.

And so, here at the edge of another week, I offer you this:

What is it that you haven’t brought forth yet?

What lives within you, waiting for breath, for form, for voice?

And what small step can you take today to set it free?

Even a whisper counts. A sentence. A sketch. A prayer. A defiant yes.

Because what you bring forth will save you. And maybe, just maybe, it’ll save someone else, too.

🔥 Let it burn.
🔥 Let it shine.
🔥 Let it save.

—

✴️ Field Notes for the Rogue Learner

• Read: James Hillman on the “acorn theory”
• Watch: Alan Watts on “What If Money Was No Object?” (just 4 minutes of soul ignition)
• Reflect: What have I been afraid to bring forth—and why? What’s the smallest way I can express it today?

See you around the fire,
Clay aka Soulcruzer
Guerrilla Blogger | Rogue Learner | Keeper of the Flame