What is the light inside of me that always wants to shine out?  And what is it about me that pulls that bushel basket over my head like the covers early summer mornings when the sun is so bright?

Doubt is a human game piece.  What’s the right thing to do?  Should I say what I feel, or do I need time to really recognize what it is that I feel that is meant to be said?  Ever since I found out about the myriad universe of feelings between being hurt and rage, I’ve been puzzled if the feelings need investigation or clarification to others?

Maybe the light of clarity is just like the seasons–sometimes clouds are just clouds, sometimes it is a long night, and sometimes the rain takes over.  But the Light is ever-present and I can feel it always warm my heart.