Ara Ara’s Mind

Reflection from a true vacation

{AN: Firstly, I want to thank Olive, Alyssa, Gabby, and Daraha for loving me despite who I forced myself to be. Extra special shout out to Olive for legitimately always inspiring me. This essay is the beginning of me trying to find meaning in life and who I want to be. Water was following me at this time. I wrote this in Holden Beach, while I was working on my Moby-Dick Essay, while trying to be my own beacon of light out at sea. Recommended listens with this one- Lighthouse Keeper By Sam Smith, Serendipity by Laufey, and Tuesday by Whitehall.}

I went to an antique store with my friends on a recent vacation and I kept finding lighthouses. Like my eyes were just searching for them. My friend even bought me one as a Christmas present. I brought it up later to the group, and my best friend immediately says “It’s because you’re lost and you’re looking for your beacon.” And I have never heard anything so true. A feeling ran from my chest to my stomach. I knew something had connected and opened. I knew that I had to write about it.

When I think about a Lighthouse I think first of Nancy Drew. Of Horseshoe bay (the cw Nancy Drew for the win). The dreary vibes, the grey skies, the cloudy days met with sunshine. Then I think about the movie The Lighthouse. The solitude, the madness, the isolation.

In the book Mr.Fox by Helen Oyeyemi, Mary, a figment of St. John’s imagination, becomes real and stays at a lighthouse for a night and then sets off to see the world. To go out and experience things she hadn’t before. Where does she stop? What does she see? How did she know, when to leave, when to stop? What does she find? What does she learn?

I had a friend in college that had a lighthouse tattooed just because she liked them. A few years later she learned that her family actually had owned a lighthouse and that is why she kept seeing them a round growing up. Her connection to lighthouses was so profound she couldn’t even explain it. All she could do was accept it until it made sense.

I think lighthouses are hidden in plain sight. They serve their purpose and people move on. But somehow, one day, it catches someones eye and they can’t help but stare. What makes a lighthouse beautiful? What draws a person to it? What makes it stand out? The point at the top? The stripes? The light? The rocks that are sometimes below it? The connection it has to the sea?

Ultimately, Lighthouses are guides. Lighthouse keepers are guides. A way to see through the light. A way to have a place to land even for a little bit. A way of seeing people and guiding them through the storm.

Does the lighthouse work by itself? Do the keepers get a break? Do they ever leave their post? Where do they go? What do they do? What catches their eye?

I can always find the brightest star in the sky. Maybe it finds me. Every time I look at it I wonder what it’s trying to tell me. What is it leading me to? What am I supposed to take from it?

On this same trip, one night I saw my bright star and a gold one. I couldn’t help but stare at it. I wanted to know what it was, how it was there? What did it mean that my bright star brought me to a new star?