I have been struggling so hard, of late, coming to terms with increasing disabilities, difficulty just getting around, and more, but in the middle of the night last night I woke up with a line running through my mind. I turned on the light and made a note of it and went back to sleep. It felt too important to forget. That line was “The light within never dims.”

The memory that was lingering as I was falling asleep was one from childhood when I used to love to see the neighborhood houses at night. Even the houses that weren’t the prettiest ones glowed with a kind of cozy warmth. There were no inhabitants in sight and yet my mind would make up stories about the people who were inside and what they were doing, were they eating their dinner? Watching t.v.? Reading, or just talking quietly about their day? I had no way of knowing, of course, but it gave me a very sweet feeling inside, those glowing houses, lit from within, alive with something intangible, something I couldn’t see, and yet they were a powerful presence up and down the hills. And in that moment, just on the cusp of sleep, I realized that I, too, was like one of those little houses. The shell of me may have broken parts, or things that don’t work so well anymore, but the light within shines as bright as when I was a young child making up stories. I have never stopped making up stories. I don’t believe I ever will. And then I drifted off to sleep feeling happy and at peace. I am not a broken thing. I am that light shining, everlasting. That light will never dim.

This morning I was thinking about this over coffee and something came to me that almost moved me to tears. The closest I can explain my feeling about what that light is is that it is my soul. It was there before I was born and will continue on after I shed my mortal coil. My body, though I should and am taking the best care of it that I can, is the lesser part of who I am. If I close my eyes and focus on that radiant light within, warm and glowing, as light as air and as powerful as the Earth turning on her axis, I can have an incredibly beautiful life no matter the circumstances.

I move more slowly now, and with difficulty, and my physical body is in pain. There are many things I can no longer do, but there are new ways to do so many things. If I just close my eyes, and breathe in and out slowly, and feel one with the light within me, I can feel my spirit growing bigger than this little cottage of mine, I am more powerful than I ever imagined and the possibilities for growth and new experiences are limitless. When I cry because I am in such pain trying to even get up out of a chair, moving so slowly across the room, unable to be in my garden right now as Spring arrives, unable to do so many things now, I can close my eyes, sit quietly, and reconnect with that light within, that light that always was and always will be, that light that is God. God is in every one of us on this earth, we are all connected. Little ripples of radiance around the globe, the whole of humanity. I don’t feel lonely because I do truly feel a oneness with all beings, and I can take a deep breath, feel my whole body relax, and sink into that wonderful place where the light that I am warms me, bathes me, heals me.

I may be, physically, like an old house with broken shutters and cracks in the sidewalks, and the porch no longer quite even, but still, when night falls, you can see my radiance as the light pours out of my windows, and perhaps you, too, can connect with the light within you. That is my wish for you dear one. May we all shine bright.