The Light Was Always There

We spend so much of our lives trying to become something better that we rarely stop to ask what is already here beneath everything we have collected.

In this contemplative story meditation, a glassblower named Elias is asked to replace an old church window that has become dark and lifeless. But when Elias examines it, he realizes the glass is not broken. It has simply been covered by years of salt, smoke, soot, and weather.

As he slowly cleans the window, the sunlight begins to pour through again. Elias comes to understand that he did not create the light or make the glass brighter. He only removed what had been blocking what was there all along.

Through his story, we explore the mind in the same way. Fear, anger, guilt, pride, and old pain can cloud our view, but they cannot destroy the awareness beneath them.

Transcript

Hey everybody, Jason here and this is our story for tonight. There was once a glassblower named Elias. He lived in a small coastal town where the wind never really stopped. It moved through the streets and rattled windows and bent the grass. And carried the smell of salt into every home. Elias had a workshop near the harbor. People came to him for bottles, Lamps, Window panes, And little colored ornaments that caught the sun. He was good at his work. He could take a glowing lump of molten glass, Breathe into it, Turn it, Shape it and make something fragile almost look alive. Elias had one problem. He hated dirty windows. Not dislike them, He actually hated them. A window had dust on it and he noticed. A window had streaks and he noticed. If sunlight came through dull and cloudy, It irritated him like a bad song played too loud. In one autumn, The old church on the hill asked him to repair a large window above the front doors. It had been there for generations. Tall, Arched, And made from plain glass. Nothing fancy, No saints and no colors. Just one great window facing the sea. The minister said, The light barely comes through anymore. Can you make us a new one? So Elias climbed the ladder and looked at the glass. It was dark, Gray, And almost dead-looking. He tapped at it gently. And then he smiled. You don't need new windows. The minister frowned. No. No, You need to clean the old ones. The minister looked embarrassed. Well, We arrived there. Elias dragged one finger across the corner of the glass. Thick dirt came off in a black line. Well, Not enough. So Elias worked for 3 days. He cleaned the glass from the inside. And then from the outside. He scraped away old salt, Smoke, Dust, Bird mess, Candle soot and years and years of weather. People from the town actually stopped to watch. A boy asked, Are you making it brighter? Elias said no. The boy looked confused, And Elias smiled. I'm removing the blocks of light. By the third evening, The job was done. The sun was setting over the ocean and the whole town square turned gold. Then the light hit the church window. For the first time in years, The window blazed. No, Not because Elias had added anything, And not because the glass had become holy. Not because the sun had finally decided to show up. The sun had been there the whole time. The glass had only been covered. The ministers stood beside Elias and whispered. It looks new. The lion shook his head. No. It looks clean. And that sentence followed him home. And that night, Elias sat alone in his workshop. The furnace glowed orange. Unfinished glass pieces sat on the shelves. He kept thinking about the window. For years and years he had believed the spiritual life was about becoming something better. You know, More peaceful, Wise, Pure, Even more worthy. As if the light was somewhere else and he had to manufacture it. That the window had taught him something. The light was not created by cleaning. Cleaning only removed what hid it. So the next morning Elias began to notice his own mind in the same way. Anger was set. Fear was solved. Pride was dust. An old gill was grime. Jealousy was just a hand print across the glass. And none of it destroyed the light. It only covered it. That changed the way you practiced. He stopped trying to become some perfect saint. He stopped hating himself for having human weather pass through him. He worked honestly. And when anger came, He saw it. When fear came, He saw that. When pride came, He saw that too. He didn't polish the window by pretending it was already clean. He polished it by telling the truth. And years later, A young woman came to his workshop. She was restless and tired. She said, I've prayed and I've read and I've tried to be good. But I still feel blocked from God. Elias was cleaning a small pane of glass. He held it up to the light. Well, What blocks this? She said dirt. Does the dirt hurt the sun? No. Does the dirt prove there's no light? Well, No. He handed her the glass. Then clean what you can, Be honest, Be still and do the work. But don't believe the dirt is your deepest nature. The woman looks through the paint. The harbor appeared on the other side. Clear and bright. The lion said. The mistake is thinking you have to create the light. You only have to stop mistaking the grime for yourself. And that is the lesson. The self is not produced by practice. You don't manufacture awareness. You don't build the deepest truth out of effort. Practice clears the glass. That's it. And that is enough. Because when the window's clean, The light needs no invitation. Thanks for listening and namaste.