For the love of lava

The Lava Lamp

You know, there's something brilliant about the lava lamp. I'm not talking about the level of the lighting, because we all know that there's something very subdued and subtle about lava lamps. The brilliance lies in the way it fascinates and intrigues.

Like most things in life, the lava lamp does not immediately perform its formless magic upon being turned on. It takes a while for the 40 watt light in the base to heat the wax enough to begin the process of changing the specific gravity to cause flotation.

And this is, of course, a metaphor for most things in life. Things that begin immediately tend to end immediately if not sooner, in my experience. The things that we savor, such as a fine dinner or an episode of meaningful lovemaking, do not have instant beginnings. They take planning and consideration.

When the wax heats to the right temperature, the process begins. Thanks to the laws of physics, chemistry and thermodynamics, a blob rises through the water and becomes a ball as it separates from the column that feeds it. And it ascends for a time, and it stays at the top for a time, but all too soon, it sinks slowly down, often being compressed by a new blob on the way up.

And this is, of course, a metaphor for most things in life. Thanks to the laws of gravity and similar imponderables, the blob is doomed to descend, slowly and perhaps with a certain dignity, but nevertheless downward, inexorably to be absorbed at the bottom of the column, to await a tranformational experience that will renew its upward course. But it will not be the same blob. It becomes a part of all that it has met.

Can you relate to this? Is your life a series of ups and downs: the ups caused by the heating and energy of some source that may not even be visible or clearly understood, and the downs the result of the inevitable cooling of interest and the general downward pull of forces that seem only too ready to work against always being up?

Eventually, the general temperature of the lava lamp heats to the point where the large and sensuous blobs give way to a chaotic mix of small balls and bubbles, and the charm of the lamp is perhaps diminished by a more frenetic mode of activity. And eventually, the action ceases as the water is too warm to allow for the cooling which brings the ball back to the bottom. And so the last generation of lava modules rests for a while at the top of the lamp. But when you turn off the lamp, everything gradually returns to the state in which it began, at the bottom of the lamp.

Without wishing to beat the metaphor to death, I can say that this phase may recall that critical stage in human development called "Midlife Crisis", where, after a life of increasing tempo, and compulsive need to achieve as much as possible, one comes to the realization that you are but one blob in a very numerous crowd of like-minded blobs, and even if you make it to the top, you won't hold that position forever. "Cool it!", and so you do, and you begin the final descent as the energy that moved you to action no longer seems so compelling.

But it is not necessarily a descent into darkness and incapacity, unless you allow it to be so. Like a blob of cooling lava lamp wax, you may find that you will coalesce with a larger group like yourself at this stage, having in common the experience, the judgment, and the perspective that is somehow comforting and welcome amongst like-minded companions. And you may not resent the surrender of your rugged individualism for the greater good, at least as much as you did when you were on the way up, or even at the top.


The lava lamp. It's all in how you look at it.