Lighthouse

My dreams have always had a way of tearing me down. They come through each day like a wave and with my eyes open I watch as the things around me get worn and washed away, and then the wave comes back and does it all again. I’ve watched this cycle for as long as I’ve been dreaming. I’ve noticed that the more intense the desire, the more intense the wave. When my heart races at the thought of getting what I know is right for me, that’s when the water comes crashing in at full force. I stand with my feet buried in the sand and my body held strong, ready to get hit by what’s coming my way but refusing to be knocked down. I don’t cover my face. I don’t turn my back. I just stay tall and firm, confident in knowing that I will not fall. And while I’m proud to say that my feet have never been washed out from under me, I can’t say the same for the things around me. When the water pulls back it often takes relationships, opportunities, materials, and other things that I thought were too secure to be washed away. I want to run. I want to chase after them. But I spent so much time burying my own feet in the sand that I didn’t realize how difficult it would be to move, and now the same ocean that has it’s grip on me rolls back in laughter, carrying the things I thought were mine to keep.

The truth is, with everything that comes and goes I am learning that a dreamer’s journey is a lonely one. I have fought and struggled and chased down everything that I wanted to stay, hoping that I could remain steady where I am while controlling the fluidity of what’s around me. But I was never known for my ability to chase so I am learning how to show strength in the roots that I build. Though I chose sand for a foundation, I know that when packed and secure, it can be as strong as I need it to be. The only weakness comes from the things on top that refused to dig deep enough to stay. And while I will enjoy everything that sits around me while it’s there, I will also let it go with peace. The water is not meant to be dangerous or scare me into finding solid ground somewhere else; it’s meant to wash away what no longer belongs to me. And as it takes things away, I will remain steady. I will let the beat of my heart and the light of my dreams call out to the water in front of me and serve as a lighthouse to guide and welcome what is mine. Boats and rafts filled with new people and new loves will find their way to me and I will embrace them with open arms, but I will not ask them to stay. I am where I am because of my dreams and they are where they are because of theirs. And if the water washes them away as they are called to venture somewhere else, who am I to stop them?

And as time goes by, I know that with everything around me, I am changing too. I am being molded into who the world is calling me to be. Sometimes my edges are sharp and the clouds in my mind match the ones above my head. But other times I am soft, and the water rolls off me with ease and I am unbothered. Most of the time, though, I am somewhere in the middle – fierce with determination and wild with desire, but calm and content all the same. Enough to tackle what comes, but to accept what goes.

I have built myself into the anomaly of a dreamer standing still. I am a lighthouse attracting everything that is lost and searching for a way, welcoming all that is meant to be. And, if in time, a boat is sent my way with nothing on it, then I will know that it’s time for me to dig up my roots and continue elsewhere. But things in life – be it dreams, people, opportunities, or otherwise – are not meant to be chased, they are meant to be welcomed. And whether I am standing tall in the sand or flowing free in the water, I will welcome what is brought to me and let it come and go with peace.

Light

Around ten o’clock every morning the sun shines through my room perfectly, allowing it’s warmth to soak my skin despite the freezing cold just beyond the walls. If I don’t have class or work or any other responsibilities, I’ll lay in bed and allow the warmth to fill me up. And, just like plants in the same way sun gives them life, I feel life flowing into me as well. I’ve learned this year about the importance of soaking up life. About letting light in every form it may come, be it the company of a friend or serenity of solitude, pour into you and fill the parts of you that so desperately needed it. Because sometimes you don’t know. You don’t know that that impromptu conversation with a stranger is going to turn into a sharing of stories that will leave you feeling giddy and nostalgic. You don’t know how that random drive will lead you to a beautiful place, filling you with a serendipitous memory you can call your own. You don’t know about the things that seem like a burden at the time, either. You don’t know how that person leaving your life was really making room for someone better, even if it was just yourself. You don’t know how that horrible moment was paving the way for a beautiful mind.

But even among all this unknowing, it’s hard to deny that life isn’t always working for you. We’re always going to outgrow a part of ourselves. And if you remember being younger and struggling to sleep as your legs kicked back and forth along the bed and the growing pains kept you up then you know that growth is not comfortable. In the same way that your body changed so will your life as a whole. You’re going to outgrow the person that you were; you’re going to outgrow the person that you are. In the midst of all that, you’re going to outgrow other things too: dreams, people, circumstances. The only reason it’s uncomfortable – the only reason it hurts – is because you don’t know what’s next. But if you can trust your body to grow into exactly who it’s meant to be, you can trust life to allow you to grow into who you’re meant to be.

You don’t have to know what’s going to happen to know it’ll be okay. Life is always working for you, not against you. It’s just a matter of sitting in the sun every chance you can get even if you know there’s nothing but cold around you.