The Little Light of Mine

You know how it is when you buy a copper colored car and then suddenly you notice copper colored cars everywhere?  You might believe you are a trend setter for the auto industry and you may be right. 

But another reason you are spotting "your" car everywhere is that you have activated your reticular activating system.  Once something shows up on your radar, it's hard to believe you ever operated without an awareness of it.

Just this evening as I was surfing the channels, I temporarily landed upon "Sean Saves the World."  Before I had even mentioned the theme of tonight's blog Bob said, "Look what's on the shelf behind the guy sitting in the coffee shop."

A month ago neither one of us would have noticed.  But tonight we zeroed in on the Himalayan salt lamp sitting squarely on the shelf of the coffee shop set.  Whether it was intentional product placement or there by accident, it did not go undetected.

I've been a little obsessed with Himalayan salt lamps ever since my friend Linda gave me one for Christmas.   It was an instant favorite. What's not to love about an air purifying, negative ion exuding, glowing salt crystal that boosts creativity?    (I suspect it's the real secret behind my blogging blitz.)

I quickly determined it was essential to my mental health to have one at work and in every conceivable corner of my house.  So now I have a little one I plug into my laptop at home while I blog and another little one I plug into my desktop at work while I register students.

I keep the original one next to my bed since it has a dimmer switch that works perfectly as a night light.  And my Buddhas requested they each have a basket of glowing salt stones next to them on the shelves in my living room. 

I haven't tried plugging my little one into the usb port in my car to promote calm and defensive driving, but I'm sure it would help.

So now, I see salt lamps. 

Actually, I see a lot of things now that any or all of it can be fodder for a blog post. And I'm guessing, if you've been with me on this long, strange trip the last 23 days, you've become more aware of a few things, too.

Because like any good lamp, this little light of mine is meant to illuminate our collective path.  Sure we head out in our own direction all day long.  But it's comforting to circle the wagons and meet up at the end or beginning of the day and compare notes, isn't it?

Just like Tom Bodett and Motel 6, "I'll keep the light on for you."