“... Supplies running low. Aphrodite’s Kiss due to sail near this route tonight. Attempt at rescue possible.” Rufus read the final line of the entry over and over. With an almost involuntary shake of his head, he snapped the logbook closed and shoved it into one of his many pockets.

Rufus stood near the darkening beach as the waves became larger and more frequent. The horizon was blackened and it swallowed the failing sunlight, casting an ominous glow across the open ocean. “So much for fishing,” he thought, loosening the grip on his fishing pole. A whipping crack of thunder pulled the air from his lungs. Birds shot up from the treeline in a chaotic frenzy, completely startled into flight.

The echoes of thunder rode on distant waves while wisps of lightning littered the growing darkness, giving it life with displays of ferocity. The air was dense with moisture and chilled wind began blowing through the sparse trees, kicking up sand and dirt. Dust spun around, swirling and tunneling upwards before being struck by a crosswind and decimated into formless nothing again.

Resting at the very peak of the island stood an ancient lighthouse, and temporary home for Rufus after a similar storm left him stranded on this island. A sailor welcomed storms as easily as an old friend to a cup of tea, but this one was different - it felt unnatural, unbecoming. Like the Devil was sweeping the Earth and all of its oceans to destroy everything and remake it in His image.

Rufus pitied those aboard the Aphrodite's Kiss, somewhere on the other side of the storm wall. When the sun rises again, he might well have new companions on this deserted island. Though, probably not. This one was a killer. All of those poor souls were sentenced to die at sea with nothing to remember them by except shards of weathered wood as their ship is obliterated and cast aside like trash. Trash that Rufus would like to pick through in the following days.

He turned and dashed through the brush, evading low-hanging branches and skipping over old, thick root systems that protruded from the ground. The vegetation eventually fades away, becoming more scarce and desolate closer to the tower. Even at the base of climb, there is little else besides rocks and dirt.

Rufus grabbed hold of a boulder and began climbing steadily up the rock formation. The wind quizzed him, disrupting his balance, and almost sending him tumbling down the stony hill.

Far below in the distance, trees of the forest swished vigorously. The weaker leaves were carried away in the wind, littering the shoreline with little green specks. Glimpses of the tower flashed into view as the lightning closed in, its forks and tendrils reaching closer and closer to Rufus. He pulled himself up to the final clearing where the tower stood defiant and unprovoked.

Rufus stared at the door of the lighthouse with desperate yearning. He shivered uncontrollably as he trotted to the door, his focus narrowing to only the dissipating distance that kept him from the dry warmth of the lighthouse. Preliminary rain was enough to soak him to the bone. The wind hurled the water droplets with enough force that it could be from a mile away.

Beyond the lighthouse, Rufus could see water spouts and small tornadoes forming, barely visible, appearing as shifting distortions traversing the raging ocean. Intermittent streaks of lightning illuminated the cylindrical horrors in their truer quantity and he wondered if the lighthouse would even save him.

Rufus anxiously crossed the final threshold and grabbed hold of the door’s steel ring handle, only to discover it would not budge. “Impossible!” Rufus shouted into the wind. There was no locking mechanism installed on this old slab of wood. It couldn’t possibly be jammed either. He yanked and pulled on the door in shocked disbelief. Nothing. A new layer of fear sank deep into his gut, completely crushing the previous flecks of uncertainty and doubt. He uncomfortably acknowledged the fact that he would die out here at the foot of his salvation.

No longer did the wind gust incrementally; it became an unrelenting torrent of force. Rufus held on to the ring with both hands to keep himself from being carried away. Perhaps imagined in his growing mania, he felt a rush of warmth emanating from the other side of the door, mocking him. Sensations fled from his limbs as the chill settled, reaching beyond the physical realm and wrapping its cold hands around his soul.

His loosening grip on the door was the only thing separating him from being impaled by one of the trees below and bleeding to death, pecked at by birds in the morning. Perhaps the wind would carry him down to the rocks where the waves would smash against his limp corpse as if he were a rag doll, lost and forgotten.

He cursed as his hands finally slipped off the handle. Rufus was immediately whisked away from the door and fell backwards. He looked around frantically for something to hold on to, but there was nothing else this close to the lighthouse. He wondered if he were the first victim of the lighthouse’s cruel tricks, or if there were a pile of bones and corpses littered around the base of the cliff where the lighthouse stood triumphantly.

Rufus scrambled to get back to the door, but the wind halted his efforts every step of the way as he was nudged ever backwards. The edge of the island's peak grew closer behind him. His eyes were transfixed on the door as it appeared to slowly open. It was completely dark now, and he saw only glimpses of it. Yes, it was open. He could see a glimmer of candlelight attempting to escape from the small gap.

Rufus lunged and charged through the wind with all of his strength, but it was hopeless. The wet ground and crosswind sent him sprawling forward, and he slid back to where he was before. The flickering candlelight consumed and transformed his thoughts. He imagined himself safely within the confines of the lighthouse, wearing dry clothes and wrapped in his blankets. The calm and still light of the candle would cast shadows that danced on the walls, and he would bemusedly watch them all night until he drifted off to sleep, completely unaffected by the happenings outside.

A stray pebble struck him on the side of the face and his mind returned to his reality. Rufus laid in the dark, his body curled up in the fetal position as the wind scooted him closer to the edge. He kept trying to imagine himself inside the lighthouse again but the panic and fear wouldn’t allow such comfortable thoughts any longer. He thought about his family and how he would never see them again. They probably thought he was long dead and now they would be right.

He knew the final gust of wind when he felt its confidence. The departure from land felt designed. Seamless. At first, it happened very slowly, but it lapsed into a perfect momentum. Rufus was thrown off the edge. The waves below crashed violently against rocks that would become his grave.

Only there would be no grave for Rufus, no grave but the sea.

---

Inspired by Reedsy Prompt Contest #240: In the Wind

The ancient Stoics took a systematic approach to living. The resurgence of this philosophy in modern times is a testament of how little human nature has changed over time.

Roman emperor and famous Stoic, Marcus Aurelius, hailed the four virtues of Stoicism in his now-published journal Meditations,

“If, at some point in your life, you should come across anything better than justice, prudence, self-control, courage—than a mind satisfied that it has succeeded in enabling you to act rationally, and satisfied to accept what’s beyond its control—if you find anything better than that, embrace it without reservations—it must be an extraordinary thing indeed—and enjoy it to the full.”

To practice Stoicism, it requires one to seek answers and truth from within and to ignore what is outside their influence. It is to seek control over one’s self, and no one else.

It’s not enough to simply believe the tenets of this philosophy, but to live them. We can interpret the ancient teachings of the Stoics and apply them to modern obstacles.

On digital minimalism

In a society of endless distractions it’s easy to be emotionally swayed by every new form of stimuli, because that’s what they were designed to do. Stoicism reminds us that we are in control of our thoughts, emotions, and how we react to the impulses of life. It’s possible to disconnect and go against the grain of the modern technological movement. Ditch the smartphone. Unplug the router. Detach from the FOMO, advertisements, and links to TikToks. It only requires discipline and a confident answer when people ask about your Nokia flip-phone.

Digital minimalism, or minimalism in general, is a modern application of Stoicism. The Stoics believed in a concept of ‘preferred indifference’ that guided their decision-making. To be preferably indifferent is to perceive something as neutral and it having no impact or control on your attention or behavior. Eliminating these distractions and minimizing external stimuli can benefit us all greatly.

A surplus of digital device usage has been linked to many mental health issues such as depression, anxiety, and lowered self-esteem. When we take this leap away from our devices, we naturally find ourselves more grounded and centered.

On journals

Ryan Holiday, popular writer on Stoicism, argues that journaling is Stoicism, and that you can’t have one without the other. This process of reflection and mental exercise is an integral part of the routine of a Stoic. Marcus Aurelius, Epictetus, and Seneca were avid writers of themselves, to themselves.

Daily uncensored journal writing keeps us unabashedly self-aware and reminds us of what we’ve done (good or bad) and how we can improve and live better lives as a result.

Meditations is an entire collection of a Roman emperor who struggled with his morality, values, decisions, and how to withhold them to a higher standard while maintaining effective leadership of an Empire in the midst of a war and plague. His writing is humble, and he reminds himself of his own universal truths.

Writing can truly encapsulate and develop streams of thought. It can also reinforce and express them in a powerful way; writing is an extension of the Stoic mind.

On the passions

“Let thy chief fort and place of defense be a mind free from passions. A stronger place and better fortified than this, hath no man.” – Marcus Aurelius, Meditations

The Stoics believed that a happy life was one free of passions, or the impulses prefiguring action which defied reason and the rational mind. They categorized the passions as Distress, Fear, Lust, and Delight. Good-feelings were something else entirely and divided into Joy, Wish, and Caution. The wise person is one who is free from passions and experiences good-feelings.

Stoic (as in "Stoic") adj.: seeming unaffected by pleasure or pain; impassive; "Stoic courage"; "Stoic patience"; "a stoical sufferer”

On the sage

Wisdom is analogous with the term philosophy and a ceaseless pursuit of those who seek it. To be wise is to use one’s knowledge, experience and common sense to navigate life and face all of its obstacles. It is to have the ability to contemplate deeply and acknowledge one’s own ignorance. To ancient Greek philosophers such as Socrates and Plato, philosophy meant the love of wisdom (see etymology of Greek philo and sophia).

The Stoics viewed people as either knowledgeable or ignorant. They define what they call a sage as one who is free of the passions and knowledgeable, but remains an unattainable ideal rather than a tangible possibility. Yet, still, they held a firm opinion and offered no middle ground. There were only sages and fools – those morally corrupted and unfortunate souls.

A sage was conceived as an individual immune to fate itself, and the way Marcus Aurelius describes it, one who has entered godhood. “...who has knowledge of the beginning and the end, and of that all-pervading Reason which orders the universe in its determinate cycles to the end of time”

If I were to apply Stoicism to my life in 2024, it would take the form of: digital minimalism, habitual journaling, striving for a life free of passion, and a continuous pursuit of knowledge.