Living Light
Every morning, I start my day by lighting a candle. I hadn't given much thought to this until recently, when I was invited to guest on Selena Coppock's delightful podcast, Two Wick Minimum. In preparation for our candle enthusiast nerd-out, Selena sent me some brainstorming points to consider - and I wound up unearthing some interesting associations with candles, leading back to my childhood.
I realized that joyful birthday parties with friends and family were marked by the scent of candle smoke and melted wax. I recalled the candle-lit church services where I first heard much of the choir and organ music that would later influence my own work so much. I began to realize that candles meant safety, love, and comfort for me.
The nature of a candle flame is singular. All of the awe-inspiring power and beauty of fire is there, but with an understated and personal delivery. A nuanced and disarming energy that invites you to be near it. The light a candle provides sways, breathes, and dances with a soul all its own. More insistent than bright. More ancient than practical. I began to realize that I light a candle every morning because I long to be close to living light and gentle power. Both are almost completely without representation in day to day life, where we are instead barraged with forceful, unfeeling, and blinding distractions. We would do well to remember that closeness to living light, with its pure focus and relentless power, serves to clarify and relieve, and never to overwhelm or destroy.
