It requires a certain sense of inner peace to sleep in the light. I mean relative illumination... when the moonlight peers in at your eyelashes or the streetlight presses it's way through your un-curtained window, or the hallway lights seeps beneath the door to you. I used to cover every last ounce of light in the room, so microfocused on the darkness that I couldn't shut my eyes and relax. Now I briefly appreciate the earliest hint of sunrise and go back to sleep.
It requires a sense of inner confidence when you do not meet someone's expectations for you. So when my grandma asked me if there was anyone "special" I was spending time with, I answered, "Nope! Just you!" And I really meant it.
It requires a sense of inner beauty to give yourself permission to reinterpret your own body, and then to live into that interpretation. So I think of the slight convex curve of my tummy as sexy and move like it is.
It requires a sense of inner love to enjoy a sunset by yourself. So I gathered a blanket, a beer, and a chocolate bar and watched the color wheel in the sky spin the day into night on the western horizon.
These inner senses are neither gifts, nor merits. They're somewhere in between. Their cultivation is effortful, but we are able to contain them only by grace. Therefore only by grace do we know the inner strength and serenity that illuminates our lives in this world.
Until next time,