Saturday, June 02, 2012

where's my candle?




My grandmother, Morning Star -- she was a Kikapu Indian -- she used to say that we're all born with a box of matches inside. We can't light them by ourselves. Just like in this experiment, we need oxygen and the help of a candle. Except that in our case, the oxygen has to come, for example, from a lover's breath. The candle can be anything: a melody, a word, a caress, a sound. Anything that pulls the trigger and sets off one of the matches. Every person has to discover what will pull his trigger to enable him to live. Because it is the explosive flare of a match that feeds our souls. If there's nothing to trigger the explosion, our box of matches becomes damp and then we'll never be able to light any of them. There are many ways to dry a damp match box. You can rest assured there is a cure. Of course, it's important to light the matches one at a time. Because if an intense burst of emotion were to ignite them all at once, they would produce such a strong brilliance that before our eyes there would appear a tunnel of such radiance showing us the path we forgot at birth, the same path that calls us back to our divine origins.

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