A Light Worth Keeping
Updated: 4 days ago
There's something about lighthouses that stops me in my tracks, that takes my breath away.
The settings are typically gorgeous - picture perfect. Lighthouses are usually on the last piece of land before the sea takes over. But it's more about the feelings I get. The smell of salt fills the air and the sound of waves arrives from places I'll never see. It's more than captivating. It's intoxicating.
The simple audacity of the thing itself: someone looked out at all that darkness and danger facing unknown sailors and decided to put a light there.
I find that admirable.
Growing up on Cat Island in the Bahamas, I learned to love and respect the sea’s many moods. A beautiful, calm morning could become something furious later in the day.
Treacherous reefs slipped above and below the ocean's surface with the ebb and flow of tides. If you were a boater you had to pay attention.
The ocean had its own agenda and it was unforgiving. To this day, recent shipwrecks as well as those forgotten by time remain visible offshore like decaying carcasses.
There aren't any lighthouses on Cat Island... and it shows.
But there's a spectacular lighthouse on Elbow Cay, in The Abacos and another on Cat Cay, both of which are on small Bahamian islands.
I still feel that pull whenever I walk a coastline or fly over an island. I want to go farther, look around the headland and stay out until dark with my camera in hand in search of a lighthouse.
“Lighthouses don’t go running all over an island looking for boats to save; they just stand there shining.”
~ Anne Lamott, Bird by Bird
The People Who Keep The Light
When I see a lighthouse, I find myself thinking about the great luminaries who have been in my life, including Zig Ziglar, Glenn W. Turner, and Jim Moran.
I see something of them in that light reaching out across the water. Across space and time.
There are moments when we need someone who can see farther than we can. Someone whose experience helps us recognize the rocks ahead, whose encouragement gives us the confidence to leave the harbor, and whose belief in us holds steady while our own flickers.
For me, these men were among those great lights.
Each, in his own way, helped illuminate what was possible. Their influence reached beyond business and success into how I thought about myself, my life, my potential, and what I might offer others.
A lighthouse makes a wonderful metaphor for that kind of mentorship. The person at the helm still has to steer. There are decisions to make, weather to face, and consequences to live with. But having a light to steer by (or a luminary's encouragement) can change the entire journey.
Years later, I'm still finding my way by some of those lights.
I think about that when I’m out with my camera, following a coastline or watching sunset over Olympic Valley. I think about it when I write, when I encourage someone, or when I have an opportunity to share something that experience has taught me.
What do we do with the guidance we've been given?
We can carry it forward. We can notice someone who's struggling to find direction. We can offer an honest word, make an introduction, promote, share a lesson, or simply say, “I see something in you. Keep going.”
Like the sound of waves that arrive from places you'll never see, encouragement can impact someone's future in ways you'll never know.
Somewhere, someone is looking toward the shore.
They may not seem in need of direction.
They may appear cool and confident.
But in fact, they may be lost in the dark among the reefs in need of finding their way to a safe harbor.
And maybe, because of the people who helped us, we have a little light to offer them.
Lighthouses remind us how our own presence can help others find their way.
"I feel that we're all lighthouses, and my job is to shine my light as brightly as I can to the darkness."
~ Jim Carrey
Through the lens, there are shapes, shadows, weathered surfaces, a tower rising into an enormous sky. But stand there long enough and you begin to think about the people who needed it. Someone offshore, tired and cold, searching the darkness. Someone at home waiting for a loved one to return.
Then that small, distant light appears.
Imagine the relief.
I photograph ancient Juniper Trees for something I recognize in them: the will to keep going. A lighthouse carries its history differently, but I'm drawn to the distinctive marks on it, too. Peeling paint. Rust. Stone worn by weather. Evidence of years spent out in the world.
The light keeper does ordinary work behind an extraordinary sight. Climbing the stairs. Cleaning the glass. Tending the light while the weather rattles the windows. And then does it all over again the next evening.
"Steadfast, serene, immovable, the same
Year after year, through all the silent night
Burns on forevermore that quenchless flame,
Shines on that inextinguishable light!"
~ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, The Lighthouse
We've all known people who do something similar. A teacher who sees possibility in a child. A friend who calls when life has become difficult. Someone who leaves the porch light on because you're still out there.
Their kindness can reach us across a surprising distance, near or far.
And this, I believe, is what keeps drawing me back to lighthouses. The wildness around them. The beauty. The chance to stand at the edge and feel fully awake. But also this human gesture, made against an immense and rapturous sea.
Here's a light.
Someone has tended it.
You may still have miles to travel, and reefs to avoid, but now you have something to steer by.
That's what I want to capture and write about. And when I head home, I want to remember how much a little light can mean to someone trying to find their way.
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All photographs by Michael Kennedy (unless otherwise noted) / BlueWolfGallery.com
I’m Michael Kennedy, a resident of Olympic Valley, CA (in photo above with Nicola and Boo). I’m a writer and photographer and I love exploring nature and getting lost along the way. We live in a world that demands our attention and I just want to say thank you for your attention. If you enjoyed this post, please share this with a friend. For more photos and stories visit BlueWolfGallery.com.
