Ari and the Little Light Inside

In a quiet village, nestled between hills and humming trees, lived a curious child named Ari. The village was from a time long ago, where days moved gently and wonder still filled the air.

Ari spent her days in a little workshop, helping craft magical moving pictures. These weren’t films or modern reels—but hand-drawn scenes, each one a delicate frame. When flipped quickly, they danced to life: a fox leaping through the trees, stars tumbling across the sky, a kite soaring higher than the clouds. It was storytelling at its simplest—and most enchanting.

But one morning, the workshop’s doors didn’t open. The shutters stayed closed, the tools lay quiet. The workshop had closed down.

At first, Ari felt like a lantern blown out. The laughter, the drawing, the stories—they were gone.

But then, from somewhere deep inside, a soft warmth flickered. Ari picked up her charcoal and began to draw. She painted meadows where dreams ran free, and told tales of whispering winds and talking rivers. Every stroke, every word made her feel alive again, like she was catching starlight in her hands.

As time passed, Ari needed more than stories. She needed warm meals, cozy blankets, paints, and paper. But when she tried to share her art, many smiled politely and said, “That’s sweet, but not enough.” Others asked, “Can you do something more practical?”

Ari felt the tug—between the rhythm of her heart and the voices around her.

Then one twilight evening, as fireflies danced in the hush of dusk, Ari sat alone under the old oak tree. She listened. Not to the village, not to the noise, but to the stillness within.

And from that silence came a whisper:

“This joy, this spark when you create—it is not random. It is your lantern. It is light given to you. Honor it.”

Ari's eyes filled with quiet wonder. She understood. Her joy was a divine gift—but so was her clever mind, the one that could find ways to keep her body warm and her belly full.

From then on, she carried that inner light like a sacred flame. She still found ways to care for herself—trading a story here, a painting there, helping neighbors when she could. She learned to blend her imagination with intention, her dreams with daily wisdom. And never again did she silence that small, glowing joy inside.

In doing so, Ari discovered a kind of magic more lasting than anything else:

When you honor the light within, you walk with something timeless.
When you follow your joy and use your wisdom, the path becomes both bright and grounded.

And for all the gentle dreamers who feel deeply and give their hearts to beauty—this story is also for you.

Let balance be the soil where your dreams take root. Let wisdom be the hands that hold them steady. Because only on a strong foundation can delicate dreams grow tall, whole, and true.

And that light?
It lives in all of us.

You only need to listen.

By Soo Kyung Kim