Seeing candles flicker during a campus vigil.
SEEING CANDLES FLICKER DURING A CAMPUS VIGIL. Follow for more reflections on the subtle magic of campus life.
Remember those evenings? The crisp air, the solemn hush that fell over the quad, and the mesmerizing dance of countless tiny flames. It wasn't just about the reason for gathering; it was the collective breathing, the shared silence, the way the candlelight softened the edges of ancient stone buildings. Each flicker was a tiny heartbeat, a testament to shared humanity and a sense of community that often felt as vast and complex as the libraries themselves.
These vigils, whether for global events or personal losses, weren't just moments of sorrow. They were profound aesthetic experiences. The way the light caught a tear, illuminated a familiar face, or simply painted shifting shadows on hallowed ground. They were quiet affirmations of belonging, a reminder that even in a place driven by intense intellectual pursuit, the deepest connections often formed in moments of collective vulnerability. For current students, pause and feel it. For alumni, doesn't that sensory memory still resonate? The warmth against your palm, the scent of melting wax, the silent understanding passed between strangers. It’s those minute details, often overlooked in the grand narrative of our education, that truly embed themselves in our minds.