This little light of mine

I sit in a dark room and stare at three lit candles.
The room is still and the flames hardly move.

What is it about fire? For millennia people have stared into fire and wondered. Others have stared and found enlightenment. Fire is the earth's great destructor, yet its warmth is life giving. Fire will strike an awesome fear one minute and warm a heart and home the next. Not a minute goes by where all of our lives are not affected by fire. Fire thrusts our cars down the road, it lifts our planes into the air, and it spins turbines that power most of the world. It is our first conquest of nature, a kinship with a mighty power that lifted us out of the realm of animals and offered us humanity.

There is no dancing or flickering of light, no wild movements or cackling sounds emanating from the flames. There are only three simple flames sitting in a bed of sand. The flames cast light on a wooden monk worn with age, an angel with her hands in prayer, and the top of Buddhas head.

Perhaps the ritualistic use of fire was born out of that recognition of fire as sustenance. A recognition and respect of the immense power and responsibility of possessing this essential element, this essential force. We want to show the gods and those who came before us our thanks, so
we light fires and dance.
We light fires and sing.
We light fires and pray.

The flames sit on an altar arranged in an triangle, and although it is a detail that resonates with significance it is merely coincidental. There were no thoughts of spiritual matters this evening. No trinity, no shakti, no noble eightfold path.

Only human matters this evening.
Three human matters.
Three friends with three challenges.
Three friends with whom I have shared memories,
and three challenges that aren't supposed to be presenting themselves at this stage of life.
So I light three candles, I light three candles and stare into the warm glow and I pray.
I pray for a fire for my friends. I pray that it will burn the pain of treatment, I pray that it will burn the pain of loss, I pray that it will burn a path of hope and scar the land with joy, I pray that it will make hope as black as soot and scorch the earth. I cannot know the challenges of my friends, yet my heart cries as I stare, and my eyes weep as I pray.

Tomorrow I will light three candles and I will dance. I will dance with my sons and spade cooley and will dance in the night when sleep doesn't come easy.

Friday I will light three candles and I will sing. I will sing both boys to sleep with songs of the day and songs of moon shadows.

And I will hope that in the ritual of my life, I can send comfort, joy and hope to my friends.