Melt Downs

I hear the word “meltdown” quite a bit these days, at least in some of the circles I move in. For some of you, this might be a new term. When I was growing up, I knew of only three types of meltdowns.

 

The first was the wax of a candle melting down—something that happened daily in our house due to the frequent load shedding in those days. The second was the danger of a nuclear meltdown, a concern that arose as we grew up amidst the construction of many nuclear reactors and the arm flexing of nuclear powers. And lastly, we heard about snow melting down, which led to flash floods in the northern regions of the country.

 

Each of these has its own distinct character. The wax melting down is intentional; it was created to melt down and, in the process, to keep giving light. Eventually, when all the wax is gone, the light burns out, leaving behind only the burnt remnants of the wick. But this burnout happens only at the end of the candle's life—until then, it keeps burning on! 

 

This can be seen as a metaphor for life. We are brought into this world to give light, to melt down and eventually burn out, leaving behind only a few remains that might soon be forgotten. But perhaps a few will carry the memory of that light for some years.

 

A nuclear meltdown, however, is something entirely different. It’s an internal implosion. While often called accidental, to me, it’s not entirely so. When you contain so much power and heat in a small space, consequences like this are bound to happen at least occasionally. Despite the use of coolants to regulate the temperature, there have been times when the cooling was insufficient, and the core broke through the containment! What’s left afterward is a burnt-out reactor and widespread destruction. We remember the Fukushima disaster of 2011 and the Chernobyl disaster of 1986. 

This too can reflect life experiences—an internal implosion caused by unrelieved heat contained for too long. In the aftermath, those around are left to pick up the pieces, often suffering significant harm themselves, while the person is left burnt out.

 

Snow meltdowns are a bit different; they are seasonal. With climate change and the damage, we've done to the earth, these seasons have become much more erratic and frequent. Four decades ago, when we were young, these meltdowns were seen as a good thing. They occurred in early summer and the rainy season—snow melted, rivers flooded, causing a bit of destruction, but also watering dry valleys. These events were welcomed by many.

 

Most of what I hear from the circles I’m part of today are about these seasonal meltdowns. External temperatures rise, life events generate too much heat, and then you melt down a bit. It’s good for the system—you rest, rebound, and those around you aren’t too impacted. You try to contain this within yourself or a small group. You don’t burn out; you just dim the light a bit and then come back after a few hours or days.

 

But then I’m reminded of what a friend once told me after reflecting on the “Burning Bush” of Moses: “When the fire is from within, you do not burn out; you burn on.”

 

I hope to be like the candle, and at times like the snow, but never like the nuclear reactor!