Don't laugh. I used to have one of these gizmos . . . only I think mine actually was shaped like the rising sun. The gist of this "natural alarm clock," is that it mimics dawn, very slowly going from darkness to light--right through your sleeping eyelids. No jangling, buzzing, no radio blaring Hip Hop. No heart-jolting confusion and sudden urge to throw a clock across the room. Oops--did I say that? Seriously, this natural clock--though decidedly weird looking--is pretty ingenious, and it works. We bought ours to use on cruise ships, because the first few times we sailed, we booked the most economical cabins. Translation: Dark and windowless. Remember the Irish passengers in the Titanic movie? Yup. Way down there. It's very disorienting to wake up (jet lagged and in unfamiliar surroundings) and not know if it's day or night. But mostly I bought the natural clock because I'm married to a practical joker, and when I'd sit upright in the bleak, sub-level darkness and mumble, "What time is it?" he would invariably say, "Ten o'clock in the morning--we're late." It was too dark to even find him to smack him.
So instead, I found the Natural Clock--it only cost about the same as an upgrade to an outside cabin.
Nowadays--in my "retirement"--I'm once again rising before dawn. To write. Up at 5:30 in darkness, fixing my Hazelnut coffee and padding on toward my office where my characters await me. For the past 3 weeks they have felt a lot like the Irish in the bilges of Titanic--trapped in the "Dark Moment," while I was merrily entertaining houseguests and bagpipers. But now I'm back, and I'm typing away, helping them move from darkness to epiphany, from "Aha" toward Happily Ever After. Through faith, from darkness to light. Just the same way that . . . right now, the dawn is beginning to seep through my office window here in South Texas. Real light, the promise of a glorious new day. Very fitting for a book based on the theme of HOPE, I'd say.
From darkness into light. I love it.
Outside cabins for everyone!
2 comments:
Love that clock! And the phrase from darkness to light. Not sure it would work for me, though. I sleep with a night light. Yes, I admit it! LOL
The other morning I saw the sunrise. Although it was from a hospital room and I had to look beyond ugly buildings, it was the most beautiful sight I'd ever seen, with the bright ball of sun rising through the white clouds on the horizon - just a gigantic burst of light that hurt my eyes to watch, but I couldn't help myself. I don't believe I'd ever seen a sunrise. I've seen sunsets because in West Texas you can't help but look out at the wide expanse of sunlight in the west.
From darkness to light. I'm going to remember that.
Thanks,
Lupe
Lupe--I certainly hope that whatever took you (or yours) to the hospital is resolved. And I know what you mean about sunrises . . . a true blessing. I've started taking morning walks just after dawn, and it's a wonderful way to greet the day and (I'm sure you can relate) to jumpstart my plotting of my daily writing.
Here's to lightness from dark . . . and night lights when we need them. ;-)
Candace
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