Looking for the Light
Looking for the Light
A man is crawling on the ground near a streetlamp, searching intently for something. A passerby approaches and asks, “What are you looking for?”
“My keys,” the man replies flatly.
“Where did you last see them?” the passerby asks, now curious.
“In my car!” the man says, sounding slightly annoyed.
Perplexed, the passerby wonders aloud, “Then why are you looking under the streetlamp?”
“Because the light is better here,” the man answers.
When we lose our way, become overwhelmed by the chaos of the day, or feel anxious about the future, it’s tempting to look for answers in places that feel more comfortable, where the “light is better, '“ instead of where the real problem lies.
We live in the middle of it all, whether we choose to pay attention or not. Sometimes the trouble is just outside our awareness, but we can still feel its weight. The more we avoid facing our feelings about these challenges, the more they disturb our peace. That sense of overwhelm builds until we find ourselves irritable, restless, or even sad, unsure why our peace of mind feels under attack.
It is possible to be aware of life’s messiness and still find peace. Resilience comes from facing challenges head-on and recognizing our inherent power, through kindness, compassion, and clear thinking, to respond wisely.
Awareness begins with curiosity: noticing what we’re seeing, hearing, and experiencing, and being honest about how it makes us feel. When we cling to fear, frustration, or resentment, those emotions grow stronger. They blind us to small steps forward and to the reality that change is constant.
When we hold onto fear, we start searching for solutions in the wrong places, like listening only to voices that confirm our views, doom-filled headlines, or alarmist warnings. Life is here for us, not against us.
Books, podcasts, faith communities, and relationships can offer insight and comfort, but they can’t give us lasting relief if we rely on them to replace our own inner work. They are often a mix of truth, opinion, and projection. If we follow others too closely without checking in with ourselves, we may feel unsettled, incomplete, or mistrustful. That’s when doubt can become a gift; it helps us refine our beliefs and remember who we are.
Question everything, except the love within you, the Spirit that softens life’s blows.
Chuang Tzu, a 4th-century Chinese philosopher, said, “We can always find the answers in the sound of water.” Water soothes us. The sound of crashing waves can calm the nervous system, slow the heart rate, and lower blood pressure. Negative ions released by ocean spray can even lift our mood.
When I lived in Atlanta, I would escape to the outer islands just to sit by the ocean, letting the waves mesmerize me for hours. Stillness near water makes it easier to hear our own answers and quiet our fears. The endless rhythm of waves, flowing in, flowing out, reminds us that everything changes, and there is beauty in that impermanence.
Water touches something deep in us. Our skin, the body’s largest organ, comes alive in its presence. We are made of about 60% water; being near it feels like returning home. If you can, spend time noticing water’s smell, movement, and color. If you can’t be near it, drink it slowly and mindfully; hydration is its own form of restoration.
When we remember who we are, the love of Spirit flows within us like water, calming and nourishing the soul.
The light we seek has always been inside us. We just have to learn to look for it in the quiet, and once we find it, to be it.
Peace and blessing,
Eleanor
