The Dance of Truth and Love

But today felt different.

As she danced, pouring her emotions into each movement, I saw something in her—something more than just her graceful limbs and twirls. I saw a beauty that felt perfect. Not just the beauty we often speak of—the kind you can see—but a deeper, spiritual, emotional beauty that radiated from within her.

It struck me: she is a performer in her own world. A world where she is free to feel, to express, to be unapologetically herself.

And in that moment, I felt something shift inside me. I saw her as the whole, perfect soul she is, just like each and every one of us. And then, like a sudden wave, a truth came over me—a truth that stung.

At some point in her life—and in ours—someone is going to try to convince us otherwise. Someone will say there’s something wrong with her, with you, or with me—maybe her hair, her nose, her body. Someone will call her selfish, dramatic, too much, or not enough. Someone who doesn’t know her at all will try to tell her who she is. I bet we’ve all had that person in our lives at some point.

And I looked at her, still glowing from her dance, and said, “Wow… you are so beautiful. Inside and out. So perfect just the way you are. But one day, someone will come along and try to tell you you’re not. They’ll try to convince you you’re less than what you are. Can you believe that? Some random person, who knows nothing about your soul, will try to make you doubt your own light.”

She sat down, listening intently, as a soft love song played in the background. Her heart was wide open. We were both suspended in that sacred space of truth.

I continued, “Baby, don’t listen to anyone who doesn’t see what I see right now. Don’t ever believe someone who tells you the opposite of what I’m telling you in this moment. If someone tries to hurt you, to make you feel small, remember this night. Remember what I said. You are beautiful. This isn’t me being nice because I’m your dad. This is the truth.”

She didn’t say anything for a moment. She just sat with it.

Then, she stood up, walked over to me, wrapped her arms around my head, and pressed it to her chest.

“Thank you, Daddy. I love you.”

And just like that, magic happened 

Let this be a reminder—for you, for me, for anyone who has ever doubted their worth—that the truth of who we are lives not in the opinions of others, but in the quiet, sacred moments when we are most ourselves. We were born radiant, whole, and enough. Beneath all the noise, beneath the masks we wear to fit in or feel safe, our light still shines. So dance when you feel it. Cry when you need to. Love without holding back. And when the world tries to make you forget, return to the truth: you are beautiful—inside and out—and nothing, nothing, can take that away.