Lighthouse

I have been sailing through the rough oceans for as long as I can remember.

The wild and unpredictable waves crashed against the creaking hull of my boat. The unforgiving darkness was barely pierced by the flickering lantern’s glow. Steering the helm was a constant struggle, and the biting cold left the hairs on my skin standing at attention. With no hope of rest and no particular direction to navigate, I was doomed to wander aimlessly across the vast ocean. No home to return to, no place to go—I could only hope to survive the harsh waves every day, night, and hour: no rest, excess thoughts, and unnecessary movements.

The sun would shine every once in a while, not that I’d notice. I’ve never let myself indulge in its warm rays or the way it illuminates everything too brightly, always forcing myself to think of the sun as fleeting and harsher than the ocean’s waves.

The shadows were all I’ve ever known. Why should I seek out the light? Why should I continue navigating the great unknown? Why embark on an adventure when I have no treasure map at all? Why search for a greater purpose?

I then found myself looking over and down into the void of the ocean. I felt its depths calling me. Perhaps it would be okay to jump and let the dark, cold waters embrace me. Perhaps there would be comfort in nothingness. Perhaps there would be solace in the dark.

Yet, what should I do or feel when light herself seeks me out? What should I do when the suffocating darkness is replaced with a blinding light?

A lighthouse suddenly appeared in my vision. Although miles away, its warm light seemed to envelop my small boat in a comforting embrace. Transfixed, I decided to steer toward the tower looming in the distance. Guided by its light, I traversed through the rough waves, the wild storms, and the everlasting darkness that seemed to chase me. Yet, emboldened by the rays of warmth, I braved through, desperate to feel more.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, I had a direction. The storms tried to pull me under, the waves roared louder than ever, and the biting wind tore at my resolve. But I gripped the helm tighter, driven by a flicker of something I hadn’t felt in years: hope.

And finally, after what seemed like a lifetime, I found my way to the shore where the lighthouse stood. The waves grew gentler as I approached, almost as if the ocean itself acknowledged my arrival. I stepped onto the sandy beach, my legs trembling as they met solid ground. The air was still, warm, and quiet—a stark contrast to the chaos I had left behind.

The lighthouse’s light bathed me in its glow, no longer distant but present, no longer fleeting but steadfast. Its walls stood tall and unwavering, a reminder that even in the darkest nights, something can stand firm against the storm. I rested my hand against its surface, feeling the warmth seep into my frozen fingers.

This was more than just a beacon; it was home. Not a place to escape the world, but a place to return to—a guide to help me navigate the storms when I ventured back out into the vast ocean.

The ocean is still wide, still wild, still untamed. But I am no longer lost. Whenever the shadows return, I know where to look. The light will always be there, waiting to guide me home.