Pilot Light

The Pentland Firth in the far north of Scotland is known to be one of the roughest stretches of tide in the world. There has been many a shipwreck in these terrifying cross currents, with very few able to survive the frigid waters.

I remember a trip across the Firth once. The person driving the boat was experienced and familiar with that passage of water, having made the trip many times, and suggested that we would have to take the long route back as the tide was turning. It was early evening and the light was lowering. So a boat journey that normally took 10-20 minutes took us an hour and a half. I didn’t mind. The light was stunning and birds were flying around the boat, active in their pursuit of fish. The swell of the water was powerful and the smooth surface areas indicated a strong whirlpool-type undercurrent. I just sat at the back on the floor of the boat, exposed to the open sea air and wind, and drank in as much as I could, hanging on tightly to the side when the boat lurched and rocked.

That journey became the inspiration for a number of paintings, and it had an impact on me for years to follow. It was one of the most memorable sea-going adventures for me. Crossing that wild expanse of ocean, where Atlantic meets North Sea currents, created an impact that I’ve only experienced standing behind the Niagara Falls (where I come from).

Today, I drove out to Dunnet Head a few miles away with a friend and stepped out by the lighthouse to get a panoramic view of the Pentland Firth which was deceptively calm and inviting. Tourists were crowding into the parking lot. Meanwhile, we were fortunate to land up in conversation with some workmen who were involved in maintenance and upgrading the lighthouse itself.  It was fascinating to learn of the history and technology past and present. It made me think of a famous poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow:

The rocky ledge runs far into the sea,

And on its outer point, some miles away,

The Lighthouse lifts its massive masonry,

A pillar of fire by night, of cloud by day.

And as the evening darkens, lo! how bright,

Through the deep purple of the twilight air,

Beams forth the sudden radiance of its light

With strange, unearthly splendor in the glare!

My friend and I were musing, at Dunnet, about the need for light and guidance in the storms now raging in the world and also in the confusions that we face in our personal and professional lives.  We considered the need for light, however small and undramatic, in every challenge of our journey through life. My friend mentioned the opposite of a massive lighthouse: the little pilot light, always glowing at the base of a traditional gas boiler. The flame is always there, however small and unseen, ready to burst into full power when the heat is turned on.

Sometimes we have long periods when we feel detached from work and even from ourselves and so we lose confidence. But the pilot light of our spirit never goes out. One day that inner light may spark and create a blazing fire. One day we may be able to create the conditions that enable our dreams and our hopes to flourish.

My visit to the Dunnet Lighthouse, which I have seen many times, took on a new power and significance.  Whether huge, or tiny, we need guiding lights to go forward with courage.

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