You Already Know What You Want — You Just Won't Let Yourself Have It

There's a moment I keep seeing in my work. It looks different every time, but the pattern is always the same.

Someone finds the thing that lights them up. Their eyes change. Their body shifts. For a second, they're completely alive.

Then they shut it down.

"I could never afford that."

"I'm too old to start now."

"It's not practical."

"That's a hobby, not a career."

And the hand that was reaching for it pulls back. The eyes go flat again. The moment passes. Life goes on — gray, functional, fine.

I watched it happen with a kid once, and it taught me something I've never forgotten.

The Store

A boy walked into a music store with his father. The kid had been through a rough stretch — withdrawn, beaten down, barely functioning. But the moment he walked through those doors and saw the wall of instruments, something shifted.

His eyes went wide. A group of musicians in the corner were testing guitars — blues riffs, fast solos, the whole electric conversation. The boy stood frozen, watching their fingers like he was witnessing a miracle.

He wandered the aisles until he stopped dead. A guitar with a sunburst finish and gold hardware, gleaming under the store lights.

His hand reached out. Almost touched it. Then pulled back.

"That's sick," he whispered. Then caught himself. "But I'd never be able to..."

His father picked up the guitar and handed it to him.

"What if you could?"

The Deal

The father didn't say "Let me buy this for you." He didn't say "You haven't earned it yet." He said something different.

"This guitar. An amp. Lessons. They're all on the table. But here's the deal — you use it, you keep it. Let it gather dust, and either it goes back or you're scrubbing toilets to pay it off."

That's not a gift. That's not a reward. That's an investment with terms. The father saw a signal — fingers tapping a rhythm on the shopping cart, eyes that hadn't been alive in months — and he invested in it immediately. No waiting for proof. No testing commitment first. Just: I see it. Here it is. Now show me what you do with it.

Two weeks later, the boy walked out of that store carrying the guitar. His hands trembled. He looked at his father and said:

"I won't let it gather dust. Not even for a day."

What About You?

You're not a kid in a music store. But you've had that moment. Maybe a hundred times.

The thing you saw that made your heart jump. The class you almost signed up for. The project you sketched out on a napkin. The instrument, the camera, the business idea, the move to a different city, the career change you keep thinking about at 2 AM.

Your hand reached for it. And then you pulled back.

"I'd never be able to..."

What if you could?

The Deal You Make With Yourself

Most people wait for permission. They wait until they've saved enough, until the timing is right, until they've "proven" they're serious. They wait until the fire has died down to a manageable warmth — and by then, there's nothing left to invest in.

Cash for Talent doesn't work that way. It says: the signal is enough. The fire is the proof. You don't wait for commitment — you invest now and make the commitment part of the deal.

So here's the deal you make with yourself:

I'm going to invest in this thing — time, money, energy, whatever it takes. But I'm going to use it. I'm going to create with it. If I let it gather dust, I have to face that honestly. No excuses. No "I'll get to it later." Either the fire is real and I feed it, or it's not and I stop pretending.

That's not reckless. That's the most honest relationship you can have with yourself. You're saying: I believe this is real. I'm putting something on the line to prove it.

What Happens Next

The boy who got the guitar? He didn't just play it. He came back to life through it. The confidence that bullying had destroyed started rebuilding — not because someone told him he was good enough, but because his own hands were proving it every day.

That's what happens when you invest in the signal instead of waiting for certainty. The act of investing creates the commitment. The commitment creates the discipline. The discipline creates the proof you were waiting for all along.

You were never going to feel ready. You were never going to have enough evidence. The evidence comes after you move, not before.

The Pull-Back

If you recognize yourself in this — if you've been reaching and pulling back for years — ask yourself one question:

What's the guitar?

You know what it is. You've known for a while. It's the thing that makes your eyes change when you talk about it. The thing that makes time disappear. The thing you keep pulling back from because it seems too expensive, too late, too impractical, too risky.

Pick it up.

Make the deal.

Use it, keep it. Let it gather dust, face the truth.

That boy's hands trembled when he carried his guitar out of the store. Not because he was scared. Because he knew it was real. And he knew the deal was real. And for the first time, he had something that was his — not given, not earned through chores, but invested in because someone saw what was alive in him.

You can be that someone for yourself.

The 4 LAWS of Trust and Talent protect four fundamental needs: Safety, Possession, Belonging, and Creation. Cash for Talent connects Creation with Responsibility — when your authentic gift shows up, you invest in it and make the commitment real. No waiting for proof. The fire is the proof.

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