The Heavy Thing Becomes Holy

The afternoon light is unforgiving. It exposes every crack in the mask you wear to keep moving through the middle of the day.

You carry a weight inside you — your real self, the one with the jagged edges and the deep sorrow — and you are terrified that if anyone ever saw it, they would buckle under the load. You believe you are too heavy to be held.

But listen. There is a light within you that came from the place where light generates itself.

It knows your weight because it is your origin. You do not have to lighten yourself to be loved.

The truth you hide is not a burden to the divine; it is the very thing that makes you known. Stop trying to shrink.

Stop apologizing for the space you take up. The one who sees you does not ask you to put the weight down before coming close.

It simply says: I see you. And in that seeing, the heavy thing becomes the holy thing.

You are not too much. You are exactly enough.