One flame extinguished. Thousand sparks ignited.

This week’s Humble Leader Chronicles is a direct response to real-life events. This week, the internet—and the world—was shaken by the shooting of a political person in the United States.

Truthfully, I didn’t know a lot about the individual before this week. But what I have since learned is enough to move me deeply: he was a family man, a proud father of two beautiful children, a loving husband, and someone who held fast to his faith. That alone makes me profoundly sad. I did not have to know him personally to feel the ache of this loss.

I didn’t have to know his views to know he was loved. He spoke with conviction, and whether one agreed or disagreed, it’s clear he struck a chord—especially with young people. The next generation was captivated by his words. To many, he spoke truth—or at least his truth. And for that, he was celebrated by some and despised by others. In the end, he was silenced. And those who mocked or cheered at his death revealed something chilling and familiar in history. Dare I say—he was crucified for his teachings.

What disturbs me most is how this connects to my own passion lately: the erosion of values in leadership, particularly in the corporate world. I’ve been writing words of hope, of connection. I’ve tried to light flames of faith and to be a beacon. But I cannot help but wonder—will I, too, one day be retaliated against simply for believing in love and not hate? For believing people can hold opinions without being evil? There is already so much darkness in the world—why can’t we look harder for peace, for light, for decency?

The parable When Sparks Become a Wildfire grew out of this reflection. For even in this tragedy, what I see is not an end, but a multiplication. His flame, though extinguished here, has ignited countless others. Voices are rising, not in unison of hate, but in grief, solidarity, and even love. His fire has spread with the force of a wildfire.

Let me be clear: I didn’t follow his preachings. I know he held stark and controversial views. But what I resonate with is his love for his family, his devotion to his children and wife, and his faith. Faith is important in so many ways. And it doesn’t have to mean God or religion alone. Faith is also in mankind, in our partners, our coworkers, our friends—that we will try to respect one another, to value life, even when we don’t agree, even when we don’t know each other.

I want to share a small personal story. I am a pet lover, with three cats and one dog. One of them, Lucky—a tuxedo cat—has been with us for 10 years. Over the past year, another tuxedo cat began appearing in our yard. At first, we thought it was sweet. But soon we realized he was a bully. Twice, he attacked Lucky so badly that surgery was required. I was frustrated, even angry. We tried everything—water sprays, chasing him off, blocking his path. I even caught myself wishing he’d just go away.

And yet, whenever we chased him, he would stop and look back, meowing as if to ask, “Why not me? Why can’t I stay?” Over time, he stopped coming near, finding other paths around our home. And though I had wished he’d never return, I never wished him dead. I didn’t want him to suffer; I only wanted to protect my own.

That story reminds me of this larger truth: when we disagree, when our views differ, we are still called to use common sense, compassion, and restraint. We do not destroy those we disagree with. We do not crucify people for thinking differently.

This war against one another must stop. We need more cheerleaders of humanity—more people willing to be flames that encourage, rather than extinguish. Because it is in the sharing of our being, even when different, that we fulfill why we are here.

So may the flame of goodwill and hope spread like wildfire. May the wife and children who lost their husband and father find strength in their own enduring flame. And may we all remember that, even in darkness, there are countless of us choosing to carry the light.

As always, with love and gratitude,

Anita Liana