When I start to write, I light it. It burns high at first reaching up towards the ceiling like it is happy that it is carrying out its true purpose. The flame settles down after a time and then it burns steadily. Its steadiness feels trustworthy. Reliable. It warms me even though I know it really isn’t emitting much heat. Its light lifts me. When the candle is alight, it means it’s time to work. It is time to think, to create, to write, to feel.
This candle has a scent which is supposed to be Mulberry and Fig but which to me smells of calm and solitude. Peace and rest.
When I feel the need for some of this peace and solitude, lighting a candle provides the perfect atmosphere for me to adjust my mindset. It is such a strange, disorientating and anxious time; this simple practice can often be my single glorious thing to get my out of the darkness.