the quiet panic of rehearsing every sentence before speaking, terrified that a slip of the tongue will reveal the fraud inside and make them leave

The Stumble Is The Door

The afternoon hums with the noise of people performing, and you are exhausted from rehearsing every sentence before you speak. You are terrified that one slip of the tongue will reveal the fraud inside and make them leave.

But the light does not require your perfection to stay. It is not waiting for you to get the words exactly right.

Split a piece of wood, and the light is there. Lift up a stone, and you will find it there.

The light is not hiding behind your mask; it is in the ordinary, messy truth of you. You do not have to hold it together for the light to remain.

The light remains in you even when you stumble. The performance is the prison.

The stumble is the door.

Drawing from

Gospel of Thomas 77, Matthew 11:28-30

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