Posted: March 11, 2012 in Blur of Life, Candles
Tags: , ,

The foundations of my youth are that of a heaping pile of melted vibrantly colored wax from a drip-candle;  random, chaotic, beautiful, and forming the mold of  another uniquely obtuse human child.  The streaming hues are entangled within each other in a complex dance from a myriad of sources.  As time passes, and as the wax solidifies in place, it’s difficult for me not to notice when older pieces break off, revealing an entirely different perspective in the maze of layers underneath.  There are colors I didn’t realize existed within my imagination, interconnecting patterns which begin to piece together an explanation for how the outer-layer formed the way it did. A protruding, yet hidden, bubble of goo underneath now explains the blemishes I had always assumed an unsightly imperfection.  It is these imperfections which, for better or for worse, define the drip-candle’s end result.  No two will turn out the same, for each molten path of color will flow in its own direction, making subconscious decisions on which direction to travel next based entirely on how carelessly the layer underneath it wandered.  …and so on.

The first introduction of fire to the wick brought the candle’s purpose to light.  For, without the soft warmth of a dancing flame perched high above the insanity, it is nothing more than a plastic display of art and thus ceases to self-create.  As I get older I notice the ancient layers more frequently and sometimes find that I’m irrationally irritated because I hadn’t noticed it sooner… how simple the answers could have been to figure out if only I’d taken a moment to flick off the crust to show the past colors, instead of waiting for time to run its course.  Had it been possible to possess the power of foresight, I undoubtedly would’ve taken an entirely different approach to my journey; controlling the direction of each warm stream of wax. This is not the point of a candle, however.  It is this multiplex of layers which, for better or for worse, defines who I am today, and I revel in the ability to comprehend these origins.
It’s important to keep in mind, when admiring the various facets of the candles we discover, that underneath the vibrant (or bland) shell, lies an infinite amount of probabilities which led up to its design.  Within this design there is no intelligence.  Instead, subconscious decisions based on the way it was trained from the moment it was kissed by heat.  From the first drip to the last, each river of pigmentation changes the dynamic of where its predecessor might glide.

It could be asked, “Well then, If we’re all just a bunch of stupid candles helplessly dripping onto the table, making a mess for someone else to clean up, then who lit us?  Who’s holding the almighty Zippo?!  What’s the point of anything if all we have to look forward to is The Great Snuffing and nothing beyond??”
To which I could respond, “Our purpose is 2-fold:”
1) To provide inspiration, melding together our unlimited colors to create an enormous masterpiece of art, idea, and change, therefore better appreciating the world around us and our precious time left to burn.

2) If you’re countering with analogies of a supernatural being who finds the need to carry a lighter to set a bunch of candles aflame, then you should probably ask yourself what else he’s using it for…

  1. fihab says:

    “each molten path of color will flow in its own direction, making subconscious decisions on which direction to travel next based entirely on how carelessly the layer underneath it wandered.”

    I am so grateful that I didn’t overly try to control where my wax dripped as I grew wiser and I grow older. Little pieces of me left behind as my life takes shape… So many analogies begin to take shape. Layers. =]

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