My daughter, in response to something she gleaned from her old man (me) – something I said, a casual remark, an expression of whimsy – decided that the perfect gift for her father would be a lava lamp.
To those for whom a lava lamp evokes an image of an exploding mountain of melting rock – relax. The name is far more menacing than the object. (Note to self: Here would be a good spot to upload an image of a lava lamp )
Lava lamps have been around for decades. I remember my first lava lamp encounter as something falling between the smells of patchouli and that other aroma of the 60s and 70s, in the time of black lights and glow-in-the-dark posters, hanging curtains of beads, and the low sound of The Doors.
Yes, I have fond memories of watching in awe as the magic globs inside the lava lamp rose and fell in tempo with the music . . or so it seemed.
Today, when I just need to shut down and think about nothing for awhile, I find a certain calmness in being absorbed into the do-nothingness of watching a lava lamp for a few minutes. Sometimes it’s those few minutes that set the tone for the hours that follow.
Sometimes it just feels good to do nothing and think nothing for a little while.
And lava lamps are the perfect reason and sometimes occassion for just that nothingness.
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