I force the air out from my lungs in an exasperated manner, exhausted from the day’s endeavors, restless and weighted by my obligations. I stretch my arms past the center console to retrieve my backpack from the empty row of seats, pulling it towards me and slamming the car door behind me. I locate the house key from the collection on my lanyard and isolate it in my sweaty palm, allowing the others to obnoxiously clank together until I’ve finally unlocked the door. While struggling to grip the knob and balance the items in my arms, I push the front door open and immediately find refuge in the salutation of sandalwood and sage. The scent surrounds the air around me, sourced from the little glass jar containing the flickering flame which warms the wax it stands on.

Had the sandalwood candle sat cold and inoperative on the countertop, I would not have been able to indulge in the warmth and sweet aroma that silenced my ceaseless exertions. As I stand captivated by the amber flame, my mind mirrors its waver. Candles, I realize, are a lot like our thoughts; when left to collect dust, they are useful only for the space they occupy on the shelf. But when we choose to express these thoughts, we hold a flame to their wick and watch them illuminate the space around us. Sometimes, our ideas are immediately snuffed out, or the frail flame fights on until it is exhausted and the flickering light flees, leaving only a trail of grey smoke in its place. Other times, our ideas grow brighter and larger, illuminating a pathway for our future and piercing through the darkness of doubts. Our ideas can bring other people comfort and familiarity in a world which is strange. We can contribute to other’s ideas, and direct the collective light towards sparking reformation. Or we can continue to pass judgment on ideas less tasteful to us and allow thoughts of anger to set hatred ablaze. But this, to me, is absurd. We each have ideas of what is true and good, but it accomplishes nothing to snuff out the ideas burning in opposition to our own...

Blinking back into reality, I leave my thoughts behind, and walk over to the sandalwood candle. I lean towards it, mindful of where my hair falls, and watch the faint flame dance back and forth to its own rhythm.