Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Candles in the wind go out…
Not to compete with Sir Elton John’s song, “Candle in the wind;” his song, speaking of a life lost to confusion. He admired the life that eventually blew itself out. Then he rewrote the song to show respect for the loss of another one. When is the wind strong enough to blow out the candle?
Recently I’ve been reading about other lives and their desires to continue living. They have a ‘driving force’ that propels them through the world they travel. They speak of recovery from various dilemmas and events that took some or all of their life away. Yet this ‘driving force,’ this motivational person, place or thing, took them to a level of wanting to continue to exist. The person, place or thing, ‘saved’ their life; like a surrounding wall protecting the flame of their candle in the wind.
So I wondered in my own way of wondering, which is flawed at best, but still it’s my own: what is my ‘driving force’ to continue existence? What keeps my candle glowing? What gives me shelter from the wind? …
My little computer cursor has been blinking for five minutes now, until I finally typed this sentence. I’m searching in my mind for an answer and I have none. Have I no ‘driving force’?
The wind has always found me. The wind has always blown out my candle. Then one day I just decided I’d only light my candle when indoors. Then when it got blown out it was because it was at the bottom of the wick. With that spent, I’d simply get another candle to light. So maybe my ‘driving force’ is simply to have a lighted candle? Maybe the realization that I can blow it out just as well as the wind gives me control? I don’t have any real answers today, but I bought a new box of candles.
Sunday, November 23, 2008
When I found this rather curious ruin I wondered where the place was. It’s called “Glen of the Downs”, Wicklow. I think it’s a rather enchanting ruin looking out to the trees and meadow below it. The arched windows remind me of portals; stepping over and through to the outside and the adventure waiting there. A place of real existence in the land of Ireland calls me and I long to answer the voice.
Go through these portals of earth and where will you arrive? It almost appears as a place that time has passed over. Winding dirt roads, tall hedgerows, and the sweet stillness of silence greet each of us who transport ourselves to a time of peace. Shall we ever return? Why, lest we break the secrecy of this wonderland and lose the so long sought green freshness of pure life. I would remain for as long as possible, if not forever.