There is a light
Beneath the surface of our restless lives, beyond the noise and ceaseless motion, dwells a quiet, enduring light. It is not something we create but something that has always been there, a source of insight and wisdom, a personal agency ceaselessly at work on our behalf. This light is not of our choosing; it seeks us, and it always has.
Sometimes we catch its glimmer, a fleeting clarity, an unexpected alignment of purpose. In those moments, we feel its invitation, sense its steady guidance, and align ourselves with its deeper currents. But more often, this light languishes, distant and overlooked, like a steady beam shining at the bottom of an ancient well. Few among us are willing to venture down to retrieve it unless pressed by necessity, unless the cracks in our surface lives compel us to look more deeply.
And yet, if we pause and reflect, we may discern its trace in the story of our days. A thread of interests, passions, and aspirations has always run through us, a quiet, insistent undercurrent shaping the contours of our lives. But life, with its vicissitudes of fate and family, its relentless demands and uncontrollable forces, often scatters our attention. The collusions of culture, the betrayals of ego, and the persistent tug of conformity pull us away from that essential thread.
Still, there are moments, graceful, unbidden—when we sense that familiar impulse, catch a fleeting scent on the breeze that reminds us of what our lives are truly about. These are not grand revelations, but small, persistent whispers that point us home. Of course, the call is unique for each of us. The themes may echo, but the paths are singular, shaped by the unrepeatable geography of our lives.
There is no marked trail across the open sea. The surface obscures the way, and the currents are hidden beneath. Yet, if we listen, if we trust life enough to wade into its uncertainty, we can feel those quiet pulls guiding us toward another shore. Like the steady rhythm of a lighthouse, this light calls us by a pulse that only we can recognize.
To find and follow this light, with whatever remains to us in adulthood, is to recover something essential, a thread the child in us once intuited but could not yet weave into form. It is a breaking of vows we unknowingly made to silence and suppression, a chance to recover and honor what was lost.
This journey is not a luxury but a necessity. For in following this light, we begin to reclaim an inner wealth that has been waiting, quietly, at the edges of our awareness. It is the inheritance of an unlived life, poised patiently for our arrival. It asks of us only the courage to see it, the faith to trust it, and the willingness to become who we were always meant to be.
