Faro de dos luces, 1929
Fuente: https://www.wikiart.org/
They intrigue and fascinate me at the same time.
That distance, that solitude, that mist.
They spend their lives gazing at the immensity of the sea, feeling the waves crash against their cliffs, guiding them.
Yes, they are lighthouses, those slender circular structures that rise in the vastness of the unknown to illuminate those who navigate through difficulties, gloom, and storms.
It seems like an allegory of the word hope, that which sometimes weakens in the fog but, if one waits a little, ignites again and again.
Just looking at them inspires stability, peace, and strength in me.
I had the opportunity to visit one with my husband. We saw it in all its serenity and grandeur from the ferry that leads from Skye to Isle of Mull, on the west coast of Scotland. I remember the feeling of peace, the dampness and salt, that I perceived as I ascended the spiral staircase leading to “the lantern”: the heart of the lighthouse.
There, hand in hand with my great love, we climbed together on a kind of eternal life journey, finding purpose in each step.
Here in Canada, lighthouses abound on the Atlantic coast, in Newfoundland and Labrador. I hope one day I can visit them to reconnect with that feeling of radiant transit.
As I write these somewhat melancholic lines, I think that perhaps we all carry within us the heart of the lighthouse, the “lantern,” that torch of hope that guides and warms you up.
Maybe we could be our own beacon or at least offer light for someone who needs it.
Amidst my nostalgia and notes from that unforgettable trip to Great Britain I took with my husband in the summer of 2000 (one of many to come, since it was his home country), I came across these lines, I didn’t take note of the author at the time:
“To have hope is a task, not a luxury. To have hope is not to dream, but to make dreams come true. Happy are those who have the courage to dream…”
