During the dark Winter months, I frequently find myself on the seemingly abandoned Bremerton-Seattle ferry. If one sits on the Southern-facing side of the ship, they are rewarded with a blinking beacon from the Alki Lighthouse in the distance. It’s not the brightest light ever, and is certainly not on any sort of fancy blinking pattern. When the night is belching wind and spitting out moisture, I often walk up to the upper passenger deck and stand by the crew cabin: where no lights shine from the vessel.
Standing alone, the skyline of Seattle slowly draws into view while being beckoned by the shepherding sentinels. With nobody in sight, and the elements falling around you, it’s when I can remove myself from the world around me and fall deep into my thoughts. As the soothing voice of Skye Edwards and the trip-hop beats of Morcheeba softly filter through my headphones, I’m no longer afraid to repress my thoughts.
The fog was perfect tonight. As the blurry city comes into focus, the thick layer begins right about at the forty-fifth or fiftieth floor of the skyscrapers. Only the brightest lights can shine through the haze that was blanketing the sky.
As I ponder my future, I’m reminded that no matter of the fog that obscures our lives, there are always beacons that will guide us to the correct destination. But once we arrive and look up towards the star, all that is left is a few bright lights. Everything else is a mystery that can only be explored by elevating ourselves to the next level.
Hunkering against the wind, a juvenile seagull was standing on the enormous arresters designed to stop a wayward ferry. It seemed to be in the same position I was in. Staring into the wind and rain, he or she was taking the opportunity to reflect on its seagull life, and knowing that despite what happened, there is always the rain.