The Lantern Within

There are seasons that feel entirely without light. Grief does this. Burnout does this. Long stretches of uncertainty do this, dimming everything until the days start to blur into each other, indistinguishable and grey.

But even in those seasons, something in us tends to keep burning, small and stubborn, refusing to fully go out.

It is easy to miss it. A lantern in daylight looks like nothing at all — just glass and a small flame you'd never notice unless you were specifically looking. It is only in real darkness that its light becomes obvious, becomes necessary, becomes the thing that lets you take the next step without stumbling.

That small, stubborn light in you is not naivety. It is not denial of how hard things actually are. It is simply the part of you that keeps choosing to try, quietly, underneath everything else, even when trying feels pointless.

You may not be able to see it clearly right now. That does not mean it isn't there. Lanterns don't need to be seen to keep burning. They only need a little fuel, and a little shelter from the wind, and time.

If today has felt dim, this is not a sign that your light has gone out. It is only a sign that you are in a season dark enough to finally notice it was there all along.

Shelter your lantern today. It has been carrying you further than you know.

— The Dancing Sage