LIGHT: Keeping It

A friend invited me to Point Reyes National Park to go see the lighthouse. We arose early, packed a picnic, drove for hours, walked up hills, and down stairs until we finally arrived at this house of light that sat on the edge of a perilous cliff on the tumultuous ocean. I entered into this white, narrow structure and was immediately drawn to a sign entitled, “The Light Keepers:” The lone people who mastered the whistling wind, the crippling fog, and the crushing surf to provide light to those seeking it in the midst of a dangerous storm.

In that moment I understood that I am a Light Keeper. I have spent two decades of my precious life studying the storm. Intimately observing the insanity, the unrest, the unpredictable acts of my abusive caretakers. I have adjusted my behavior and internalized their to accommodate their needs in order to survive. When I finally was able to leave, it took nearly one more decade for all of the accommodation and the internalization to stop. It took time for me to understand that while others also suffer from insanity and lack of control, I need not hold it, I need not blame myself for it. The only thing I keep now is the light. That which clears paths, which warms the welcome, and which dispels darkness.

The storm is no longer in me. It is not outside me as much as I can control it. So, if the storm is outside of you, if the storm is still within you, I beg you- find a Light Keeper. There are many us, I am learning, who chose to live on the edge of that cliff, right where the storm will come, and the waves of uncertainty will hit. We who choose to build our homes there because we are confident that we are masters of the dark. We will keep the light for you. We promise that.

But you, my dear one, have to reset the direction of your sails. You have to seek the light and immerse yourself in it. You have to believe that you can follow that light onto a safe shore. Once you arrive, let me make it very clear, that you don’t have to be a Light

Keeper. You can live your life like so many do, using what you’ve learned to avoid the storms and contributing to keeping yourself safe.

For others of you, you may arrive to the shore and wonder who kept the light for you in the storm. For those of you who wish to turn around, to descend those stairs that take you closer to the house of light and the rocks and the sea. For those of who who feel called to knock on that black door of that white, narrow structure. Do so. A keeper of the light will open it for you, we will be your sign.

You can learn all about what we do here, how we choose to live. Alone, free, on the edge of safety and storm, where we bear light from our beings to guide others to the shore. Then you can choose: you can leave and never return or you can become an apprentice of the light, so that one day you also learn to keep it and only it. To build a house on a cliff, to find a home in it, and to provide light when there is darkness.

Welcome to shore my loves, what will you choose? I will be in the light house, keeping it bright. I will watch some of you walk away in joy for your safety. I will watch some of you come close to learn about the way I chose only to turn around again a little bit fuller and a little bit freer. I will smile at you too, grateful for your curiosity.

And others of you, I will wait for your knock. I will remove all barriers between us, invite you in, and sit with you in safety until you too become so familiar with it on the outside and the inside, that when a storm comes, you yourself will shine so bright that darkness will no longer have a home within you. Your light will guide others to the shore, where they will then choose.

So what will it be? Where will you go? Know, from this seasoned Light Keeper, that you are free.