Here's a secret about stained glass: from the outside, it's almost black. The glory is all on the inside — and only when light is allowed through. The glass doesn't make a single ray of its own. Its whole art is receiving.

Your heart works like that. Somewhere along the way it got heavy — not broken, just guarded. You leaded the panes, dimmed the colors, kept the light out.

But the old maps call the heart the unstruck — the one place in you never truly damaged — and they give it the element of air. The heaviness was never its nature.

You don't have to make the light today. You only have to let it in.

Read today's reflection · Begin your practice