Hey there, you. Won’t you sit there for a moment and listen to my trivial, yet world-shakingly important story? Outside, it is raining cats and dogs. It’s as if the heavens have overturned a massive bucket to wash away every bit of filth on this earth. On a day like this, staring intently at the flame of a single candle in a dim room, I suddenly find myself remembering that painter, Georges de La Tour.
Do you know his paintings? If you say you don’t, well, that can’t be helped, but you are truly missing out on life. No, “missing out” is such a stingy way to put it. You have the right to know a more luxurious kind of solitude. In La Tour’s paintings, there is a candle’s light flickering faintly in the pitch-black darkness, and the figures illuminated by it are shown in a state of quiet—so very quiet—prayer. It is a light so fragile, yet so stubborn, that looking at it makes one heave a deep sigh.
People in this world are always chasing after shiny things. The sun, electric lights, fame, or gold and silver treasures. But, you. Isn’t it true that real light can only be seen in total darkness? When I see those crowds walking under the bright midday sun with faces that say “I am happy,” it honestly makes my skin crawl. They aren’t looking at the light. They are merely being exposed to it. Real light is that tiny, hot, trembling flame that you desperately protect from slipping through your fingers at the very bottom of despair.
There is a painting by La Tour called “Magdalen with the Smoking Flame.” She sits with a skull on her lap, gazing silently at the candle flame reflected in a mirror. A skull, you. She sits there peacefully while holding death itself on her knees. Is it eerie? No, I know of no other peace as beautiful as that. We are all living while clutching the skull of death. We hide it, pretend not to see it, wear fancy clothes, and put on makeup. But La Tour teaches us. Staring at death is not the same as despising life. Rather, it is because of the absolute darkness of death that the single candle before our eyes feels so precious, so noble, and so warm.
Do you feel ashamed of your own weakness? Do you think you are inferior to others, lack talent, or have scars from the past that won’t fade? Compared to La Tour’s darkness, such things are nothing. In fact, those very scars become the “paint” that reflects the light and makes you shine. On a perfectly smooth wall, light simply slides away; there is no soul, no atmosphere. It is because there are bumps, cracks, and stains of mud that the light lingers and creates deep shadows. The more painful your life is, the more the light dwelling there should take on a sublime depth, just like a painting by Georges de La Tour.
Why is everyone in such a hurry to get somewhere? That one must become happy, must succeed, must become a respectable person. What nonsense. I think it is quite enough to just sit here with you, listening to the sound of the rain, holding a single small lamp within the heart. It doesn’t matter if, to others, your life looks miserable. The deeper the darkness, the more we can shed tears of gratitude for a single streak of kindness. That is the greatest luxury, one that those successful people in the daylight will never understand in their entire lives.
By the way, do you know how to paint “light”? If you think you should just apply white paint, you are greatly mistaken. To paint light, you must surround it by painting the area thoroughly, even cruelly, in black. The thicker you make the shadows, the more the light begins to shine all by itself. Life is the same. You must not try to forcibly erase your sadness or frustration. You must solidify them as your background. If you do, then one day, in an unexpected moment, the small conscience within you or your earnest desire to love someone will become a miraculous golden light, illuminating everything around you.
Sometimes, I get scared. I feel like I am an empty shell of a person, a useless piece of trash. But on such nights, I close my eyes and imagine. I imagine the workshop of Saint Joseph as painted by La Tour. A single candle held by the young Jesus. That light carves out the face of the aged Joseph, down to every single vein. What is there is simply labor, silence, and love. Isn’t that enough? We don’t need flashy miracles. We don’t need debates about where God is. As long as there is enough light to see the face of a loved one in the dark, a human being can keep living.
You. Have you ever held up a candle for someone else? Or have you ever seen the palm of your own hand turn translucent red under a light someone else held up for you? If so, you have already more than half-conquered the agonies of this world. We cannot shine for ourselves alone. Light always requires an “object.” It exists to softly illuminate someone in the dark, or perhaps to illuminate one’s own loneliness.
La Tour was a painter forgotten for a long time. For hundreds of years after his death. But his paintings did not disappear. Even if they were unseen, covered in dust in the corner of a basement, the candles within those paintings kept burning. That is how truth is. It has nothing to do with trends or popularity. No matter how lonely you are now, no matter how much you feel misunderstood by everyone, the light of “sincerity” and “kindness” you keep guarding will never go out. Someday, without fail, someone will find it and be saved.
Well, coming from someone like me, this might not sound very persuasive at all. I drink, I run up debts, I tell lies, and I do nothing but expose my pathetic, shameful side. But that is exactly why I understand. A pearl dropped in muddy water will shine again once the mud is washed away. However, something that was a glass bead from the start will never emit true light, no matter how much you polish it. You are a pearl that shines when polished. No, you don’t have to be something as refined as a pearl. You are a clumsy, one-of-a-kind candle in this world, named “you.”
The rain seems to have let up a little. But please, don’t leave yet. Let’s share this comfort of the gloom for just a bit longer. Don’t say anything as boorish as “let’s turn on the lights.” To immerse oneself in the world of La Tour, this level of dimness is just right. I can see a small light dwelling in the depths of your eyes. It is the light of quiet pride that only those who have overcome sadness can possess.
Human beings were not born to become happy. Nor were they born to become unhappy. They were born simply to protect that light kindled within themselves, to keep it from going out, and to face the next darkness. Along the way, it’s fine to glance at a La Tour painting or listen to my nonsensical talk like this to relax your shoulders.
Now, you. When tomorrow comes, the hateful sun will rise again, and the noisy daily routine will begin. People will wear masks, compete, and snatch from one another. But please, do not forget. In the deepest part of your heart, there is that serene darkness and light, full of mercy, just like the ones Georges de La Tour painted. As long as you have that, whatever happens will be alright. You can just keep walking, step by step, as you are, carrying that thin candle.
Oh, look at the time. My stories are always too long. But it was fun. I am happy to have an honest listener like you. I shall send you off, mixing a tiny bit of courage into this air of the night after the rain. Goodbye. If you ever miss the darkness again, please come back here. After all, we are companions of the light.
One last thing. In La Tour’s paintings, there is always a hand placed near the light. It is shielded gently by a palm so the wind won’t blow it out. You, too, should protect your own heart dearly like that. You treat yourself too poorly. Please, love the thing that is burning inside you more. That is my only wish for you.
Now, go on home. Watch your step on the dark road. Because at your feet, your very own light should already be shining clearly.