Beyond the Spark

Issue #045

☕ Sunday Briefing

No checklist today, just something I’ve been sitting with.

In flying, takeoff gets all the attention.

It’s loud. It’s powerful. It presses you back in the seat and convinces you that this is what the whole thing is about. Thrust. Acceleration. That moment where the ground falls away and everything feels possible.

There’s a kind of love that feels like that too.

It shows up without asking anything of you. Love at first sight. Puppy love. That early rush where everything feels obvious and easy, like the universe lined something up just for you. You didn’t work for it. You didn’t earn it. It just arrived.

And when that happens, it’s intoxicating.

For a long time, we’re taught that this is the point. That if love is real, it should feel automatic. Effortless. Like gravity pulling you in the right direction. If it’s hard, maybe it’s wrong. If it takes work, maybe you missed your person.

That idea sticks with us longer than we realize.

Lately, I’ve been wondering if that story only tells half the truth.

Automatic love is powerful, no question. It gets things started. It opens doors. It gives you momentum. But it’s also fragile in a way we don’t talk about much. It depends on conditions staying favorable. Chemistry. Timing. Novelty. Life not pressing too hard too fast.

When everything’s light, automatic love feels endless.

When life gets heavy, it sometimes doesn’t know where to go.

Earned love feels different.

It doesn’t announce itself. It doesn’t rush in. Most of the time, you don’t even notice it forming. It shows up quietly, over time, through repetition and restraint. Through staying present when the feeling alone wouldn’t carry you there. Through choosing someone again on days that feel ordinary, or exhausting, or slightly disappointing.

Earned love doesn’t feel like takeoff.

It feels like cruise.

And cruise doesn’t look impressive if you don’t know what you’re looking at.

From the outside, it can feel boring. Quiet. Like nothing is happening. But up there, everything that matters is happening at once. Constant adjustments. Small corrections. A thousand decisions made early so nothing becomes an emergency later.

Cruise isn’t passive.

It’s intentional.

That distinction matters more the older I get.

Because once responsibility enters the picture, careers, kids, aging parents, fatigue, the love that actually holds your life together isn’t automatic anymore. It’s built in small, unremarkable moments. In patience when you’re tired. In compromise when you’d rather be right. In choosing engagement instead of escape.

And that shift can feel unsettling if you’re still measuring love by how intense it feels instead of how steady it is.

I think a lot of people quietly worry that something is wrong when the spark fades. Like they missed a turn somewhere. Like love is supposed to stay loud and obvious forever. And when it doesn’t, when it gets quieter, calmer, less urgent, they start wondering if this is all there is.

But what if that quiet is actually the point?

Earned love rarely looks impressive from the outside. There aren’t always fireworks or big gestures. Most days it just looks like reliability. Like someone doing what they said they would do. Like staying in the conversation when it would be easier to check out.

Automatic love asks, “How does this make me feel right now?”

Earned love asks, “Who am I becoming by staying?”

That question hits differently.

The healthiest relationships I’ve seen didn’t start without spark. They just didn’t stop there. They let that initial energy settle into something sturdier. Something that could handle turbulence without panicking. Something that didn’t need constant thrust to stay airborne.

I’ve also learned that the people who keep things steady don’t always get credit for it. The ones who notice drift first. The ones who trim early. The ones who keep the flight smooth enough that everyone else forgets how much work it takes.

Flying with a good Captain will teach you that kind of respect fast.

The spark gets your attention.

Earned love builds your life.

That transition isn’t always smooth. It asks you to let go of romantic myths you didn’t realize you were still carrying. It asks you to trade chasing for choosing. Intensity for intention. Feeling for faithfulness.

And that trade can feel like loss if you’re not expecting it.

Some of the deepest love in my life didn’t feel exciting in the moment at all. It felt calm. Predictable. Sometimes even boring. And I remember thinking, is this it?

Only later did I realize that calm was safety. That predictability was trust. That boredom was actually peace.

Earned love doesn’t demand attention.

It earns trust.

It doesn’t try to convince you it’s real.

It proves it quietly, over time.

Maybe the real work isn’t keeping the spark alive at all costs.

Maybe it’s learning how to fly past it without turning back.

Because in the long run, the love that carries you through fatigue, conflict, and responsibility isn’t the one that arrived effortlessly.

It’s the one that stayed.

The one you kept choosing.

The one that kept choosing you back.

⸻

Until the next leg,

Jake

First Officer, Dad, Human Trying Not to Stall