Tonight, before the Buddha’s altar, I sit silently, watching the old candle fade away. Its flame trembles, the wax almost spent. I take a new candle — untouched, pure — and gently light it from the dying one. In that brief moment, a thought arises: perhaps this is what rebirth truly means. The flame is consciousness itself, journeying through countless lifetimes, moving from one form to another, falling into one of the six realms: hell, hungry ghost, animal, asura, human, or heavenly being.
But then I wonder: What is it that is truly reborn? Surely not the wax. Nor the wick. It must be the flame, subtle, formless — neither entirely old nor entirely new. When the old candle dies, the flame does not weep.
That same flame — the continuum of consciousness — is carried by the invisible wind of karma to enter another shape, vessel, body through which it may burn again. That is the endless pilgrimage of the mind. We often think death is an ending, the wood exhausted, the lamp running out of oil. But in truth, it is merely a passing of the flame. The body dissolves, the form disintegrates, yet the subtle spark — the consciousness — continues its infinite journey. Like a flame leaving the old candle without ash, yet still lighting the new one, awareness departs the body without carrying the mark of “I,” leaving only the continuation, the quiet unfolding of dependent arising. Between the two candles, between the dying and the newly lit — There is no owner, no self, no memory. Only motion, only continuity, only the silent compassion of the universe, turning endlessly, without beginning or end.
Sometimes I ask myself: When the candle of my life burns low, will I fear the dark? Or will I trust that the flame knows its way Has it walked this path countless times before? The secret of peace lies not in clinging to the candle, but in keeping the flame awakened. For every thought, act, and intention, it is the wax that will shape the next light. If this life burns with greed, anger, and delusion, the next will carry its smoke. Suppose this life burns with wisdom, concentration, and insight. The next will shine more brightly.
So tonight, I do not pray to escape samsara as usual. I pray for my guru to return to this human realm, to show me how to kindle a pure flame, how to pass on a stainless light, to illuminate a new world
Tonight, before the Buddha’s altar, I sit silently, watching the old candle fade away.
Its flame trembles, the wax almost spent.
I take a new candle — untouched, pure — and gently light it from the dying one.
In that brief moment, a thought arises: perhaps this is what rebirth truly means.
The flame is consciousness itself, journeying through countless lifetimes,
moving from one form to another, falling into one of the six realms: hell, hungry ghost, animal, asura, human, or heavenly being.
But then I wonder:
What is it that is truly reborn?
Surely not the wax.
Nor the wick.
It must be the flame, subtle, formless — neither entirely old nor entirely new.
When the old candle dies, the flame does not weep.
That same flame — the continuum of consciousness — is carried by the invisible wind of karma to enter another shape, vessel, body through which it may burn again.
That is the endless pilgrimage of the mind.
We often think death is an ending, the wood exhausted, the lamp running out of oil.
But in truth, it is merely a passing of the flame.
The body dissolves, the form disintegrates, yet the subtle spark — the consciousness — continues its infinite journey.
Like a flame leaving the old candle without ash, yet still lighting the new one,
awareness departs the body without carrying the mark of “I,” leaving only the continuation, the quiet unfolding of dependent arising.
Between the two candles, between the dying and the newly lit —
There is no owner, no self, no memory.
Only motion, only continuity, only the silent compassion of the universe,
turning endlessly, without beginning or end.
Sometimes I ask myself:
When the candle of my life burns low, will I fear the dark?
Or will I trust that the flame knows its way
Has it walked this path countless times before?
The secret of peace lies not in clinging to the candle, but in keeping the flame awakened.
For every thought, act, and intention, it is the wax that will shape the next light.
If this life burns with greed, anger, and delusion, the next will carry its smoke.
Suppose this life burns with wisdom, concentration, and insight. The next will shine more brightly.
So tonight, I do not pray to escape samsara as usual.
I pray for my guru to return to this human realm, to show me how to kindle a pure flame, how to pass on a stainless light, to illuminate a new world
In this world, impermanence alone is eternal.
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