The Candle and the WindIn a monastery perched on a windswept cliff, a young novice named Ren was tasked with his first solo meditation in the Great Hall. His heart swelled with pride; this was a sign of his Master’s trust. As dusk fell, he carefully lit a single beeswax candle, its flame a tiny, perfect teardrop of light in the vast, shadowy hall.No sooner had he settled into his cross-legged posture than a gust of wind howled through an open window lattice. The candle flame guttered wildly, stretching thin, threatening to vanish into a wisp of smoke. Ren’s eyes