The Light Sees Beneath Your Mask

The afternoon sun is high, and you are performing the role of the person who has it together. You smile at the coworkers, you nod at the questions, but inside you are terrified that your silence is a lie.

You fear that if they knew the weight you are carrying, they would see you as a fraud. But the light does not require your performance.

It knows the difference between the mask you wear and the heart that beats beneath it. There was a man who had been paralyzed for thirty-eight years, lying beside a pool while everyone else stepped over him.

The light saw him not as a failure or a fraud, but simply as someone who needed to stand. It did not ask for his resume.

It did not ask him to explain why he was there. It simply said: get up.

The truth is not something you have to manufacture to keep your place at the table. The truth is the thing that sets you free from the table altogether.

You are not a fraud because you are hurting. You are a human being who is tired.

And the light is gentle enough to hold the parts of you that you are trying to hide.