In the deepest, blackest part of the ocean, there is a tiny, perfect island made entirely of smooth, cool stone. This island never moves, not a millimeter, even when storms tear the surface apart. On this island stands a lighthouse.
At night the lighthouse would watch a brilliant, strong ship navigate the dark waters. The waves were high, the wind was cruel, and the ship felt the incredible urge to lash out at the storm. Instead, the ship kept its signal clear, watching for the lighthouse's light through the darkness.
The ship thought it was failing because the waves were high, but the lighthouse sees the truth: the ship's job is not to stop the storm or smooth the water. The ship's job is simply to stay afloat and keep communicating. The lighthouse's job is simpler: it cannot move.
The lighthouse has no feelings about the storm, only about the light. The lighthouse can watch the ship struggle, rage, and feel hopeless, and its light never wavers. The lighthouse will never criticize the ship's struggles. The lighthouse remains steadfast, shining its light and ensuring safe passage for the ship's reality.
The lighthouse helps the ship navigate safely; the lighthouse keeps the light steady, until the ship decides the water is calm enough to drop anchor.
Jessica Carey
