To light a candle is human
even as it's having a renaissance
June 21, 2026
There are many things you can theoretically ‘do’ when every cell in your body is screaming to slow down, and doing nothing is also perfectly okay. Sometimes lighting a candle is enough.
Life has an interesting way of turning over on itself and shifting. Appearing absolutely steady yet slightly askew—the quintessential paradox. For example, I’m reliant on the steadiness and consistency of the moon. I consider it my compass and guide. Yet even though its temperament is never static and only ever full for a moment, the moon serves as a reference point that anchors me in time and place.
Not unlike the heart’s rhythm, full with blood one moment and empty the next, the moon pumps with each wax and wan. Tracking the moon and listening to my heart are both physical reminders that once a vessel is filled to the brim, in order for it to hold more it must pour some of its contents out. The same is true for you and I. We can’t always be lifting without putting down. Inhaling without exhaling. Filling our minds or schedules without thoughtfully emptying them.
At one point in her life, Pema Chödrön considered Alice, from Alice in Wonderland, her role model. How she fell down the rabbit hole made an impression. I can picture the scene clearly. Goodbye Dinah, goodbye, she says (Dinah is her kitten). She’s not grasping or flailing. She doesn’t even seem to be worried or afraid. She’s just waiting to see where she lands. Curious and curiouser.
It makes me think of the expression, getting in our own way? Or at least how Alice does not.I recognize that we live in an overly complicated world. We are also part of nature and the natural expression of the cosmos and therefore shed, fill ourselves up, and release. Repeatedly. Empirically I’ve found that lightening my load helps this primal process. Breathing does too. Come to think of it, if I’m paying attention, it slows down the fall.
Illustration by John Tenniel from Lewis Carroll’s Through the Looking Glass
Anecdotally I'd like to share a formula an Ayurvedic mentor shared with me years ago.
Before you add more things to the ‘To-do List’, STOP one thing that’s not working for you. Often that one act may allow for readjustments to happen on their own.
Pause. Allow time for the freefall—to be and not to be. This is the time the body needs to recalibrate and or rest. It knows its way. It takes trial and error and trust in our own adaptability and resilience.
After landing or recovery, then Introduce those things that will support your new way of being.
Be curious and then even curiouser.
At its core, this approach is about trust building; stripping down and genuinely listening to the body.
When it came to slowing down or working on my health, it was common to walk away with an even more robust and exhaustive list than before. This was revolutionary relief. I’d been given a permission slip to pump the brakes.
In shedding a wildly new kind of spaciousness began to present itself. Rather than impulsively filling it back up, I had to explore alternative ways to comfortably be me. Be human. Be soft. Be receptive. Be in the dark as much as the light. Simply moving out of the shade and into the sun sounds simple, yet there were times it was painfully challenging. Persisting on, I’d insert my attention into what I call the way of beauty, the way of death, the way of creative freedom, and the way of stillness. No matter the season, it’s become about exploring these things. Here’s two of my favorite:
Dusking, as the name implies, it’s the act of taking in the sunset or if not west-facing simply watching the daylight fade and darkness fall. It appears to be having a renaissance even though I don’t think it’s ever disappeared. As a kid I’d join my dad out on the deck to take in the last rays of sun, the discolored clouds, and the first appearing stars. Dusking is so medicinal, so healing. Today when I’m feeling disheveled or simply desire time and space to think or release, dusking is a lovely practice. If your default is plugging back in to work or being on a screen as night falls consider this alternative.
Candlelight, practical as it is ceremonial, is special. When I studied in India I remember my host father laughing at what he considered the oddest American habit of dining by candlelight. Why would anyone do that? Candlelight is for temples, an altar, at ceremonies, or for celebration. There I was thinking how often we would eat by candlelight growing up. Again, my dad loved it. It wasn’t so much about romance as it was atmosphere. And its atmospheric power, in the end, was what my host father and I agreed upon.
May this be a meaningful continuation of the essay, The kindest thing you can do for yourself. May you play with the light in your life. When the glow is gentle life takes on a sacred tinge where it’s hard to not chill, slow down, and simply enjoy the free fall.
Yours, Erin
What I’m paying attention to / Tools and resources
I personally love candles, beeswax especially. They can be long 19” tapered, small votives, you name it. Check these out & they’re also from a great local Albuquerque company.
In A Slow Way // a practice > can be used as a template, guide, or workbook for a personal, retreat-like exploration. Enjoy!
Currently reading* — Untamed, On Eating, The Making and Unmaking of My Appetites, and The Language of Letting Go (a daily reader).
(imagehttps://www.alice-in-wonderland.net/resources/pictures/through-the-looking-glass/) / *affiliate links
