FOCUSING LOVE AND LIGHT INWARD
For the past several weeks, we’ve explored the ways love and light stand firm against hate and darkness. That conversation often feels big—global, spiritual, and expansive. We see it in the world around us, in the stories we hear, and in the moments when we choose compassion over fear.
Love and light aren’t passive forces. They require presence, intention, and sometimes courage. And while it’s easy to think of the battle as something “out there,” the truth is, it’s just as present within our own lives.
Darkness doesn’t always appear as an obvious threat. Sometimes it looks like exhaustion, a loss of purpose, or feeling disconnected from who we are. It can slip in quietly when our focus is entirely on others and we’ve stopped tending to ourselves.
For many women, one of the most profound times this happens is during the shift from raising children to watching them step into adulthood. For others, it may be a career change, caring for aging parents, or closing one life chapter and opening another. The way we’ve been giving, protecting, and guiding changes. The pace changes. The energy changes.
And with that change comes a choice.
We can keep pouring every bit of light outward until we feel depleted, or we can begin turning some of that light inward—nourishing it, strengthening it, and letting it grow in new directions.
Tending Your Light
Your light isn’t just your kindness or your care—it’s the whole of your energy, your presence, and the unique way you bring warmth into the world. Over years—whether as a parent, a caregiver, a leader, or a friend—much of that light is naturally focused on others. Every decision, every act of service shapes the way your light flows.
When a chapter of life changes, the patterns you’ve carried for years may not automatically shift. Your instinct to give, protect, and manage doesn’t simply turn off. Without awareness, this is where depletion can sneak in—because the energy you’ve been spending has fewer places to land.
Turning your light inward doesn’t mean withholding love from others. It means creating balance. It’s learning to:
Recognize when you’re running on empty.
Give yourself the same quality of care you’ve always given others.
Allow space for your own growth, creativity, and joy.
When you tend to your own light, you keep it steady and bright. And from that steady place, the love you give is clearer, freer, and more sustainable.
An Invitation to Reflect
Maybe this is your season to pause and notice where your light needs tending. To ask yourself:
What part of me has been waiting quietly for my attention?
Where have I given away my light without replenishing it?
What would make me feel fully alive in this next chapter?
The answers don’t have to come all at once. They can arrive in small moments—a quiet cup of tea, a walk outside, a single decision to say “yes” to something that feels nourishing.
When you tend your own light, you carry a presence that uplifts every space you enter. Your steadiness becomes a quiet strength, shaping your next chapter and inspiring those whose lives you touch. This is the kind of light that changes everything.
