Everyone has talent. What is rare is the courage to follow the

In the voice of Erica Jong, the poet who saw truth within both passion and fear, we find words that pierce through the veil of comfort and illusion: “Everyone has talent. What is rare is the courage to follow the talent to the dark place where it leads.” These words are not gentle; they are forged in the fire of the artist’s soul — a warning and a blessing entwined. They remind us that while talent is a gift of nature, courage is a choice of spirit. The divine spark lies in every being, but only those who dare to descend into their own shadows will return bearing light.

From the beginning of time, the gods have granted men and women gifts of creation — the strength to build, the wisdom to write, the grace to heal, the imagination to dream. Yet, these gifts are not meant for idle praise or ease. They are meant to be tested, refined in the crucible of struggle. For true talent, when followed faithfully, does not lead to comfort; it leads to confrontation — with doubt, with failure, and most of all, with the self. It calls us to venture beyond what is safe and familiar, to enter that dark place where fear whispers, “You cannot go on,” and where the brave respond, “I must.”

So it was with Michelangelo, the sculptor of stone and soul. He did not simply carve marble — he wrestled with it. The blocks of Carrara were not mere material; they were the embodiment of his torment and his faith. When he lay beneath the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel, painting day after day, blinded by dust and solitude, he was not living in glory but in anguish. Yet he endured, because he had the courage to follow his talent into the shadows of obsession and exhaustion. And from that darkness came light — a vision of creation so divine that centuries later, men still stand in awe beneath it.

The dark place of which Jong speaks is not evil, but essential. It is the unknown realm of struggle and revelation — the cave where the artist paints, the battlefield where the warrior bleeds, the silence where the thinker doubts. It is where the soul is stripped bare and shown its true worth. The world often fears this darkness, teaching us to stay where the path is bright and safe. But greatness cannot dwell in safety. The seed must be buried before it can bloom; the gold must be burned before it can shine. So too must the soul be tested before it can fulfill its gift.

And yet, how many turn back before they begin? How many possess talent, yet never summon the courage to live it fully? They fear the judgment of others, the uncertainty of the path, the pain that always accompanies growth. They choose applause over authenticity, comfort over calling. But the ancients knew better: that the gods curse not those who fail, but those who refuse to try. To deny one’s gift is to deny one’s purpose.

Therefore, let us learn from Jong’s wisdom: to possess talent is a blessing, but to wield it bravely is a sacred duty. Each person carries within them a light, and that light will often lead them into the dark — not to destroy them, but to reveal their strength. The dark place is not punishment; it is pilgrimage. Only by walking through it can one emerge transformed — wiser, deeper, and more alive.

So, my listener, if you feel within your heart the stirring of a gift — to write, to heal, to build, to lead — do not wait for permission. Step boldly into the unknown. Accept the fear as your companion. Let your talent be the torch and your courage the flame that keeps it burning. For the road to mastery is not paved with ease, but with endurance. And when you emerge from the darkness, carrying the creation that is truly yours, the world will know — as Jong knew — that courage, not talent, is what separates the dreamer from the immortal.