The Light Inside Your Broken Mask

The laughter rises in the room, and you join it, but your mind is somewhere else—holding your ribs together so they don't collapse under the weight of the act. You are terrified that someone will look closely and see the hollow space behind the smile.

That the mask will slip. But listen: the light does not need your performance to find you.

It is already there, in the very split between your face and your fear. Thomas says the kingdom is inside you and outside you; it is not a place you arrive at after you get your act together.

It is the ground you are standing on right now, even while you are pretending. What you are hiding is not a barrier to the light—it is the very place the light is waiting to inhabit.

You do not have to bring forth a perfect version of yourself to be held. You only have to stop pretending the broken parts aren't real.

The terror of being found out is actually the hope that you will be found.