Success is like a lightning bolt. It'll strike you when you

Hear, O children of tomorrow, the words of Michelle Phan, the visionary who carved her path in the new world of creation: “Success is like a lightning bolt. It’ll strike you when you least expect it, and you just have to keep the momentum going. You have to strike when the iron is hot. So for me, I just kept striking and striking to polish out the sword that I was making.” In this utterance is found the rhythm of fate and labor, the meeting of chance and perseverance, the ancient marriage between opportunity and preparation.

When she likens success to a lightning bolt, she reveals its suddenness and unpredictability. Lightning does not ask permission, nor does it strike according to human timetables. It comes in a flash, unexpected, shaking the ground beneath it. So too is success: it may arrive without warning, often when the weary soul least anticipates it. One may labor in obscurity for years, and then in a single moment, the world’s eye turns toward them. This truth humbles the proud, for success cannot be fully controlled—but it also awakens hope in the patient, for success may yet strike when least imagined.

Yet Phan does not end with the lightning. She declares that one must keep the momentum going. For what good is lightning if the fire it ignites is not tended? Many have been struck by fortune, only to let the spark die in idleness or fear. To be ready when lightning comes is to have the will to seize it, to fan the flame, to transform a fleeting chance into a lasting blaze. Success may be sudden, but greatness is forged in the endurance that follows.

She then calls upon the ancient wisdom of the forge: “You have to strike when the iron is hot.” The blacksmith knows this truth well: iron must be shaped in the moment of heat, else it will harden and resist the hammer. In life, opportunities too have their season. Delay too long, and the chance will vanish like cooled metal. Act with courage, however, and the iron may be shaped into tools, weapons, and treasures that endure. The image of the forge reminds us that every stroke counts, and that hesitation may cost the shape of destiny itself.

Consider the tale of Julius Caesar, who, when facing the fateful crossing of the Rubicon, declared, “The die is cast.” He knew the iron was hot, and in that moment of daring, he struck boldly. From that choice, history itself was reshaped. Had he lingered, fearful of consequence, perhaps Rome would never have known the empire it became. Caesar’s act, like Phan’s counsel, teaches that when lightning strikes, one must not cower, but act swiftly and with resolve.

Phan’s final image is most powerful: “I just kept striking and striking to polish out the sword that I was making.” Here she reveals the heart of endurance. Success is not a single strike, nor a single flash of lightning, but the repeated effort of shaping one’s craft. The sword, symbol of strength and mastery, is forged only through countless blows, each imperfect yet necessary. In this, she teaches that success is not merely received—it is forged, hammered, refined until it gleams.

The lesson for you, O listener, is this: do not wait idly for lightning, but labor so that when it comes, you are ready to shape its fire. Do not fear the fleeting nature of opportunity, but strike boldly when the moment opens. And once begun, do not cease. Strike and strike again, with patience and persistence, until your sword—the work of your life—is polished and strong.

So remember Michelle Phan’s words: success is sudden, but mastery is deliberate. Lightning may grant you the spark, but only your persistence can forge it into lasting greatness. Be ever ready, seize the moment, and never cease the hammer’s rhythm—for in this lies the making of your destiny.