Flaring Felicity

Originally written September 14, 2013 | Rewritten to reflect my present voice and insight.

Jasmine didn’t fall in love on a magic carpet ride.
She saw in Prince Aladdin the same boy who once helped her in the streets—the same eyes, the same spirit.
The invitation to fly wasn’t from a stranger—it was from someone she already trusted.
Someone familiar.

Her decision to step onto that carpet wasn’t just about adventure.
It was about trust.

When Familiar Feels Like Home

Have you ever met someone who reminded you of someone else?
Not by looks, necessarily—but by their gestures, how they speak, or the energy they carry. It’s like bumping into a memory, wrapped in a new face.

The older I get, the more I realize: the world is full of people who feel familiar.
Not because they are someone we’ve known, but because they echo someone from our past.

And that familiarity?
It can either draw you in or push you away—depending on who you remember.

But instead of letting familiarity trigger judgment, what if we used it to connect?
To soften our guard. To lean in with curiosity.
Because at its core, familiarity offers a gentle entry point into trust.

The Professor Who Looked Like My Dad

That connection doesn’t just show up in relationships.
Sometimes, it even shows up in unexpected places—like a difficult college class.

Back in college, I took Broadcast Communication, a subject known for its brutal grading.
Most students failed. Our professor had incredibly high standards. He didn’t teach traditionally—he asked tough questions, expected us to self-study, and called on students at random.

Despite the pressure, I aced his class.
Not just because I studied hard—but because he reminded me of my dad.

That simple resemblance motivated me to show up differently. I was more focused, more respectful, more driven to meet expectations.
It wasn’t fear—it was familiarity.
And somehow, that opened the door to trust.

From Connection to Trust

When someone feels familiar, trusting them becomes a little easier.
But true trust is more than just a feeling—it’s a decision that deepens over time.

In my work, I often rely on data—market trends, feasibility studies, projections. That’s trust based on knowledge.
But there are moments that call for faith—like reaching out to someone unexpected, or stepping into an opportunity that defies logic.

Both matter.
But the secret I’ve learned is this:

I don’t place my trust in ideas. I give it to people.
Sometimes that person is God.
Sometimes, it’s myself.
Sometimes, it’s someone I love.

Without trust, no relationship can grow—no matter how exciting, promising, or magical it may seem.

Love and the Leap

Pocahontas met John Smith under strange and tense circumstances.
He was a stranger—an outsider, even a threat.
But something in her said “Try.”

Her story reminds us:
Sometimes, love begins when trust is extended before all the answers are clear.

It asks us to set aside labels.
To look beyond our comfort zones.
To take a step—without certainty, but with sincerity.

 A Bicycle, A Lesson

When I was seven, my parents gave me a bicycle.
My dad had his own, and he tried to teach me to ride.
But every time he let go, I panicked.

I wasn’t afraid of him—I was afraid of falling.
I didn’t understand what trust meant back then, but now I know:

Fear often shows up in the very places where trust is still trying to take root.

Even as an adult, I face different versions of that bike ride—learning to let go of what feels safe, embracing what I can’t fully control.

Because trust?
It’s not just about who’s holding you steady.
It’s also about being okay when they finally let go.

Trust Is a Language of Love

I still don’t have all the answers when it comes to trust.
But one thing is clear to me now:

Trust and love are intertwined.
You can’t have one without choosing the other.

Trust gives freedom.
It offers safety.
It nurtures confidence.
All of which are silent but strong manifestations of love.

Love often hides in the most ordinary questions of trust:

Will you let me take care of this?
Will you wait for me?
Will you stay—while I figure things out?
Will you move forward without knowing everything?
Will you simply be present today, without needing promises about tomorrow?

These are the moments where love whispers.
And trust answers.

The Real Magic

Fairy tales may begin with enchantment.
But they only endure because of trust.

In stories—and in life—love becomes real only when we choose to trust.

And that trust…
that quiet, unwavering belief in someone or something beyond the moment—
is what makes the leap worth it.