A Light That Stays On
- Paula Kadanoff
- Apr 1
- 2 min read
I used to think my light only mattered if someone else saw it. If it helped, if it pleased, if it made sense in the grand design of things. But what if my only job is to shine? Not to make sense, not to be useful—just to be. That’s where I am now: glowing, existing, and trusting that’s enough.

But what if my light didn’t need to fit into anyone else’s expectations? What if it didn’t have to be noticed in order to matter? What if I could just let it be, without constantly measuring it against someone else's scale?
That’s the shift I’m embracing now—letting my light stay on, no matter who’s watching. I’m starting to believe that my light doesn't have to be useful, praised, or seen by anyone to be real. It doesn’t need permission to exist. All that matters is that it stays on, shining in its own way, without worrying about who sees it or how it’s perceived.
This doesn’t mean I’m ignoring the world around me—it just means I’m no longer shrinking or dulling my light to fit into someone else’s story. It means I’m trusting that, even when the room is dark, even when no one notices or understands, my light is still doing its work. It’s still shining.
I think, at some point, I lost faith in the idea that I could shine just because. I thought it needed validation, or at least some kind of reaction to prove that it was worth something. But now, I’m learning that the light I give off has intrinsic value, whether or not anyone acknowledges it. I’m beginning to see that the act of simply being myself, without overthinking it, is enough.
Letting my light stay on is an act of trust. Trusting that I’m not here to prove anything to anyone. Trusting that the world doesn’t need me to be anyone other than myself. Trusting that in the quietest moments, my light is still glowing, even if no one else can see it.
So I’m here, practicing the art of letting my light stay on. And in doing so, I’m discovering that it has the power to illuminate the path, not just for me, but for others too—whether they see it right now or not.
4o mini