Basically what I'm trying to tell you is that it's almost

Hear the words of DJ Khaled, clothed in humor yet echoing ancient truth: “Basically what I’m trying to tell you is that it’s almost impossible to drive a jet ski at night time unless you’re in a city with lights lit up so you can navigate. Besides being pitch black, that water turns black at night. Listen, I don’t recommend it.” Though born in a modern tale of waves and machines, this wisdom resounds like the warnings of prophets: do not plunge into darkness without guidance, for blindness brings peril and folly.

The ancients knew this lesson well. Sailors of old feared the open sea at night, for without stars or torches, the water became a void, swallowing direction and hope. Many a shipwreck was not caused by storms, but by venturing blindly into the blackness, without light to show the way. Khaled’s words, though cast in jest, carry this same weight: that without illumination, without direction, even the strongest vessel is lost.

Consider the tale of Odysseus, who sailed homeward from Troy. Often he faced perils in the dark, when the seas were uncertain and no lights guided him. It was only by patience, by waiting for dawn, by heeding the signs of heaven, that he found his way. Had he rushed blindly into the black water, his story would have ended in silence. So too does Khaled counsel us: haste in darkness is folly; wisdom is in waiting for the light.

Yet the meaning is not only about the sea or the machine. The jet ski at night becomes a parable for life itself. How often do men and women try to move forward in seasons of darkness—when the way is unclear, when vision is clouded, when hope seems absent? They push ahead without pause, and in their blindness, they crash upon hidden rocks. Khaled’s words, though playful, remind us that one must not speed forward in confusion, but seek guidance, seek light, seek clarity.

But hear this also: there are times when light appears, even in the deepest night. In the cities, the lamps and torches allow safe passage. In life, the wisdom of elders, the counsel of friends, the teachings of faith—these are the lights that pierce our darkness. With them, even the blackest water can be navigated. To reject such help is pride; to embrace it is safety. Thus, the lesson is not merely “Do not go,” but “Do not go without light.”

The lesson is clear: patience and preparation are the guardians of safety. Do not rush blindly into ventures when you cannot see the path. Seek illumination before you move, and wait for clarity when the way is hidden. When in darkness, pause, reflect, gather wisdom—then proceed when the light has come. For though courage is noble, reckless courage is ruin.

Practical wisdom lies before you: when faced with decisions in your own life, do not race forward in confusion. If all seems black, pause and wait. Seek out those who can shine a light—mentors, experiences, knowledge, or faith. And when the dawn comes, when the waters are clear, ride forward with confidence. In this way, your journey will be not only bold, but wise.

Therefore, let Khaled’s words be remembered not only as humor, but as parable: “It’s almost impossible to ride the jet ski at night… I don’t recommend it.” Hear the echo of sailors, of wanderers, of sages within it. Do not speed into darkness unprepared; seek the light, and then move with strength. For only in the light can the waters of life be safely crossed.