Candles are great. Far outweighed by their electric counterparts in the light department, they have never quite been exterminated from culture, and thankfully so. I can imagine pre-modern era authors scribing their tales on old bureaus with nothing more than some natural moonlight and candlelight illuminating the pages. Drawing inspiration from the flames, hardly imagining a world where the light source would eventually transform into an object of infrequent yet far more celebrated use. Abandoning utility for art and special occasions, and offering more in their extinguishment and scents than a simple sustaining glow.
I recall a biography of Thomas Edison where they touched on the hundreds, possibly thousands, of attempts he made at perfecting the light bulb. Trying to simulate the warm spectrum of radiation that evolves from a burning flame. This, I suppose, stems from a human need to stay in touch with nature, and likely a strong innate attachment that man developed ever since he discovered that he could harness fire. The biography went on to explain, in scientific terms, how Edison successfully achieved his goals. And further, how over a hundred years later, attempts at refining the basic bulb for the sake of electrical efficiency have sacrificed this accomplishment. Yet, we keep trying, and light connoisseurs, like their vino brethren, know a fake when they see it.
Nowadays most candle duties include your standard, short-use birthday celebrations and any of the Yankee offerings that more than often seem to sit like a discarded ball waiting for some kid to come along and play with it. I'm sure there are some folks (females) who get more use out of the latter than it would first appear, but given their bulk, bright corresponding colors, and oft unusual odors, they tend to sit around on shelves indefinitely. Out of order, it would appear.
Candles can also make some grand entrances when it comes to romantic displays, church services, and annual holiday vigils. One vigil, in particular, even (ironically) lodges the wax in house of gourd, flickering through the imperfect cutouts of triangular eyes, a square nose, and a jigsaw mouth. A subtle example, perhaps, that it is not so much what you can see by the faint light, but what you can't see that should scare you. In which case, perhaps a larger monster face could actually be more comforting.
But aside form the irregular and special occasions that welcome candles, how many uses, other than severe blackouts, welcome their faint light for comforting inspiration? To stand alongside a favorite reading chair, or on a desk next to a tablet, traditional or electronic, when scribing a tale? The world seems to try so hard to obtain natural spring water, pure composted earth, and emissions-free air, but who anymore looks at their light source and thinks "I would rather go with a natural, flickering flame"? That perhaps I can be more at peace or at least more in touch with my natural self by going with fire over electric light? Not many, I believe, since now our light is crystallized into mesmerizing displays of non-stop action and coupled with sound.
For at least tonight, this post was crafted next to a burning flame. Although it appears well overshadowed by the backlit monitor at which I am staring. A sign of the times, literally, and a reminder from where many true comforts originate.
