Candles, Chaos, and Tiny Sparks

Some days, life feels like a slightly melted candle on the kitchen counter, a Pyrenees Mountain dog/Australian Berger hybrid weaving between my legs like she owns the place, and me yelling at my husband while he quietly walks away — apparently, one-sided shouting is my hidden superpower. It should be an Olympic sport!

We moved into this house four days before Christmas. It’s now the end of January. Boxes are still stacked like small mountains, curtains are half-hung, and every corner has a “we’ll deal with this later” vibe. Every day feels like chaos pretending to be routine.

And yet, somehow, life keeps moving — even if it’s in tiny flickers amid all the mess.

This morning was a perfect example. Tea mug in hand, dog and son demanding breakfast with the kind of theatrical flair only an 8-year-old can manage, and me glaring at a pile of boxes threatening to topple. My husband quietly walked past.

Cue one-sided shouting: “Can someone PLEASE move the boxes before the dog thinks they’re chew toys?!” He ignored me. I sighed, rolled my eyes, and started moving them myself.

Tea in one hand, dog hair sticking to my jumper, I paused for a second — and realised that noticing even the small things counts.

There’s no Pinterest-perfect version of this day. Just me, trying to sip tea while keeping the dog from eating my son’s breakfast and making sure the boxes don’t collapse on anyone. Somehow, that was my little moment of calm.

I lit a candle to settle my nerves and put it on the corner of the table while moving boxes. Wax dripped onto a pile of clothes. The dog sniffed it. My son asked if he could “make a shield for the flame.” I sighed, smiled, and let it be. The flame flickered anyway, and that tiny flicker counted.

Even five minutes of noticing the warmth of my tea, the steam curling into the morning air, and the quiet pause between chaos counted.

Shouting at boxes? Probably counts too. “I release this clutter! I allow calm in!” Dramatic? Absolutely. Effective? Somehow, yes.

Life in my house isn’t perfect. Boxes stacked everywhere, dog hair forming its own ecosystem, my son bouncing between moving boxes, dog toys, and “can I eat this?” questions, my husband quietly disappearing when I get frustrated, and me muttering at everyone and everything. Yet somehow, it works.

This morning, my son tried to “help” in his own way by stacking boxes into what he called a “fort of protection” for whom... Me or you? No, for the dog, silly. The dog thought this was a really fun game and excitedly, promptly knocked it over, sending a cascade of cardboard everywhere. I yelled at the mess. My husband shrugged and walked away. All I could do was laugh — because really, what else can you do?

Life in real life is messy, unpredictable, chaotic, and hilarious. The imperfect moments — spilt tea, melted candles, toppled boxes — are the ones that make it memorable.

Another spark happened just yesterday. I was tripping over boxes, Lego, and dog toys, cursing the chaos, when I caught my son quietly staring at a candle. He wasn’t saying anything, just watching it flicker and melt. In that pause, I felt it too — a reminder that life keeps moving, even in messy, chaotic moments.

I laughed when my son tried to shield the candle with a cardboard box. I laughed when the dog rolled in mud moments later. I laughed when I realised my “calm moment” was basically me moving boxes, sipping tea, and shouting at cardboard mountains. That’s real life. Messy. Chaotic. Hilarious. And somehow, exactly right.

If you think you can’t pause or celebrate small wins because life is messy, let me tell you: your life is the celebration. Boxes sit in every corner. Dogs bark. 8-year-olds bounce between chaos and curiosity. Chaos swirls around you. And yet, life keeps moving forward.

Notice it. Breathe. Find one tiny spark — even if it’s just five seconds of quiet while holding a teacup in the middle of chaos. That spark is enough.

Find one tiny spark today — a candle, sunlight through a window, tea, laughter, or even a cardboard fort collapse — and let it remind you that small moments matter, even in the mess.

Love and Magick,

Tina XoXo