Amara stood aboard the vessel of her life, the salty wind whipping her hair as she surveyed the vast ocean of experience. Below, the waves churned, their crests sparkling with both brilliance and threat. In her hand, she clutched a weathered scroll, its tattered edges holding the wisdom of her journey. “Avoid the extremes,” it whispered, “lest the ocean claim your ship.”
Once, Amara had been a plaything of the waves. A whisper of good news would send her soaring into clouds of ecstasy, only to be dashed upon the rocks of disappointment when reality failed to match the illusion. Conversely, a single drop of bad news would drown her in despair, her ship sinking beneath the weight of sorrow.
But the scroll, a map through the storms, led her to a hidden island. There, an old lighthouse keeper with eyes like the calm sea taught her about the “middle way.” He pointed to the horizon, where the sky and ocean met in a seamless blend. “Just as the sky holds the clouds of joy and rain, so too does your heart,” he said. “Seek not to extinguish the light, but to steady the flame.”
Amara learned to anchor her emotions. Good news brought a smile, a gentle rocking on the waves. Bad news brought a furrow of brows, a tightening of the sails. But neither joy nor sorrow were allowed to capsize her ship. She rode the waves, not fighting them, but understanding their rhythm.
One day, a storm of unparalleled fury erupted. News arrived, dark and devastating. Yet, Amara stood firm. The ship creaked, waves crashed, but the anchor held. Tears flowed, a natural rain on her parched heart, but they did not consume her. In the storm’s eye, amidst the howling wind, she saw a faint glimmer of light, a reminder of the sun beyond the clouds.
When the storm subsided, the ocean bore the marks of its rage. But Amara’s ship, battered but unbroken, sailed on. She had not been untouched by the waves, but she had not become them. She had learned to dance with the ocean, her emotions flowing and ebbing like the tide, yet always tethered to the anchor of self-awareness.
Years later, a young voyager approached Amara, eyes wide with fear of the ever-changing sea. She smiled, pointing to the scroll. “Remember, child,” she said, “the greatest journey is not across the waves, but within your own heart. Hold fast to the middle way, and the ocean will become your guide, not your master.”
As the young voyager sailed away, Amara watched, a serene smile on her lips. The ocean might rage, the news might shock, but she, like her ship, would weather the storm. For she had learned the secret of staying afloat – not by denying the waves, but by riding them with steady resolve, forever anchored in the calm center of her being.
Bhyllabus l'énigme 
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