Back in the olden days, light in the darkness was something we had to work for. When the sun went down, it was dark. We had the kind of light that drew people in. The kind of light that people gathered around. Fires and candles and oil lamps and lanterns.

We couldn’t just flip a switch and receive light. The kind of light that lights without warming a space. The kind of light that lights without warming a heart. The kind of light that encourages us to keep doing. To hold onto the energy of the day, and put off surrendering to the energy of the night, just a few more hours…

We had to plan ahead, tending to oil lamps, keeping them filled, trimming the wicks. We had to buy or make candles, lighting them as the sun set, protecting the flame from the drafts.

Because light now comes with the flick of a switch, we take light in the dark for granted. We’ve gotten out of the habit of tending to our light. And that makes me wonder about our inner lights – have we also gotten out of the habit of tending to those (were we in the habit to begin with)?

We can’t flip a switch to brighten our inner light.

It takes time, attention, kindness and care to keep that light shining brightly.

We often don’t give ourselves that time, attention, kindness or care. I certainly didn’t, and my inner light dimmed until it felt like an abstract concept – the kind of thing that happened to other people, not to me. Others have that innate radiance that draws people in. Others have an inner light that’s magnetic and magnificent. Me? Eh. I’m grey all the way through.

What changed for me was life pulling the rug out from under me, as I’ve written about before – life could see that I was hovering on the edges of the lights of others, and I wasn’t going to start tending my own light. So it threw me into the dark.

And the adventure began.

Down and in – into the dark.

Eventually, my eyes adjusted and I began to see it – my own light. Neglected and faint, but still burning. I learned to tend to it – keep the oil filled, keep the wick trimmed, shield it from drafts. I learned the things that made my light shine. People, places, experiences, and a lot of healing work that slowly, caused my inner light to shine brighter.

And I learned to appreciate the time and effort of tending to it. My inner light will never respond to a flicked switch. But it will respond to time, attention, kindness and care.

And, I suspect, so will yours. What makes your inner light shine? What ways do you like to tend it?

I have a super limited and special offer at the moment. A rich inner adventure to learn to tend to your inner light in new ways, using the wealth of tools and practices and experiments and explorations that I have gathered over my years of doing this work. 

It’s designed to open doors in your inner world. To give you deep insight into what makes you, you – and from this place, it will give you more confidence, more capacity, more kindness, more ability to connect. 

Your light will shine more brightly, and it will draw people in.

You’ll get the medicine you need, and you’ll see it influence your adventure in the world around you. It’s not a small commitment – these kinds of adventures take time, and we’ll spend twelve months together exploring your inner world and tending to the things we’ll find there.

Message me if you’re curious – there are just six places available. I’d love to spend some no pressure time with you to see if working together would be a good fit for you and for me 🙂 Send me a message or book a call here.