To the Lighthouse

To the Lighthouse by Virginia Woolf
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Swiftly coming in, my thoughts met me in my eyes. There was a tear welling up, slowly, trying to melt the thoughts with it, to make them escape from the unwanted enclosure, to set them free, to give them a lease of life. As the tear found its way, the thoughts strove hard, enduring the abrupt acceleration which followed. Astonishingly, they managed to linger on amidst the unfaltering descend. And then as I looked, they smiled back at me, smiled at the futility of efforts employed, smiled while standing majestically, as if conveying their superiority over this inept facade.

“How can you escape us?” they asked. I remained motionless, struggling to find an answer. “There is no way we can part with you, no way. Each moment of each hour of each day, we are living in you, breathing in you, making you aware of your existence and our presence. How can you escape us?” My sanity seemed to wane in response. “We make you ponder, to acknowledge joy, sorrow, love and every possible feeling. We make you live. You are not yourself sans us. ”

“Yes”, I said aloud to myself. This is true. My consciousness gained a startling sense by giving in. My thoughts then strode triumphantly and merged within. They became me. I looked at the Lighthouse in the distance and wondered where this light had been all these years. What had taken it so long to understand, reciprocate and become one with me? But then, perhaps the light had always been there. What it needed was a moment – an epiphany. And this was what the reading of To the Lighthouse brought to me.

As a reviewer, I don’t have much to say about this outstanding account of work by Virginia Woolf. But as a reader, I am enthralled, acknowledging the might of thoughts, conceding to that which has always remained within me, wondering if it is the way with most of the people, while knowing well that it is not. Knowing, that these inherent and profound thoughts loss their meaning, for most of the people, under the everyday mundane and tiring life, still, exulting in the knowledge that this Lighthouse is always there for the seekers of the light.

"What is the meaning of life? That was all—a simple question; one that tended to close in on one with years. The great revelation had never come. The great revelation perhaps never did come. Instead there were little daily miracles, illuminations, matches struck unexpectedly in the dark; here was one."


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