The Candle Lesson

The Candle Lesson

My husband was out of town last weekend, so Friday night I did what I used to do when single.  I gathered over a dozen candles, dusted off my runes to do a reading, made a cup of tea, and settled in to write. I even found my mother’s silver candle snuffer to extinguish the candles before I went to bed.

In the morning I walked into the room and saw one candle still burning on the coffee table.

It was the only candle I had not put on a little holder, yet no wax had run outside its bounds and the table was untouched.  I blew it out and sat down, shaken into an internal stillness deeper than I have felt in months.  What filled every cell was an awareness--actually a knowing-- that I was not just what some would call lucky.  I was protected and blessed. Is it time to ask more explicitly for this unseen help, guidance, and protection?

While I long to simplify my life, and I do so regularly—culling through books, hosting clothing swaps with friends, dropping off trunksful of stuff to charity--I'd rather do it on my own timetable rather than through a housefire. Is it time to pick up the pace?

This morning, I gave thanks for every item I touched. I truly love my slippers, my tea pot, my plate, my mate. I have a blessed life.  How do I increase the heat of my internal fire? Pay attention, appreciate, release the excess. Share. Repeat.

 

And that's why I'm writing this blog.