I wrote this last night, sans electricity, in the midst of a storm. (It's actually storming right now as I post this, but at least I have electricity today, so I'm not going to complain-lest I curse myself into darkness once more).
The power is out. It has been out for almost four hours now. I have candles lit everywhere and the two rooms I can see from my seat here on the couch are awash in a warm orange glow.
So far to entertain myself, I have played the drum, tortured my guitar, watched three episodes of American Dad and one episode of the Squidbillies on my media player. I'm thankful it was charged-my phone wasn't so lucky, it was dead as hell with no way to charge it...so no twitter buddies to share my dark ordeal with. Sickening and frightening, our dependance upon technology. Electricity, phone, internet...granted, I'm addicted to them all. Ah, but technology is a fickle master, lulling you into a false sense of security--prepared to desert you at any time.
As I contemplated this fact, I fell into the trance of watching two candles, side by side. One candle, a small tealight in an aluminum container, meant either for emergencies or for setting into a much nicer container. Small, inexpensive, and simple-you can get a bag of 100 of them for like 4 bucks. The other, a dancing flame within a glass, "king of spades" candle holder.
Staring, mezmerized by the candles, I noticed the small tealight-the candle with it's flame free and uncovered, exposed to all outer elements, was barely moving...it was so still it looked as if it were in a state of suspended animation--it almost didn't seem real. Though I'm quite sure it would singe my flesh if I were to touch it. The other candle, the one in the fancy "king of spades" candle holder, is dancing madly, wildly...like an illuminated prisoner struggling to escape the confines of it's glass prison.
As I watched, I wondered how this could be...that two candles could be right next to each other, and one be so obviously in turmoil as the other remains peacefully still, virtually unmoved. I found it more surprising, almost ironic that it was the sheltered, protected candle that so adamantly wished to escape, each flicker a dance of sheer turbulence as the flame licked the sides of the candle holder.
I couldn't help but to think to myself, that people are alot like these two candles. Give them freedom, allow them to shine and illuminate the world...and they remain at peace. Calm. Still. Unmoved by the winds of change. Confine them, limit them, and their flame struggles to be set free, unable to fully fulfill their purpose to illuminate--to shine--to bring a gentle glow to the world. At the same time, I became aware of how the attributes of these two flames can exist within the same soul. One--calm, serene, open, glowing...the other--caged, violent, flickering back and forth between light and dark, constant struggle to be free of the glass walls that protect us, and at the very same time imprisons us within ourselves.
Is it best for us to stay behind the glass for the sake of shelter? Or is it best to take a chance--that we will not only still burn brightly, but infinitely more beautifully when we risk the exposure, despite our vulnerabilities, to shine beyond the walls?
I think my answer came about an hour ago...when the king of spades candle holder shattered out of nowhere, completely untouched--a tiny explosion of glass, in the floor, all over the countertop on which it sat.
The madly flickering flame had escaped.
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