I used to rent my stage lights, back when I was playin' downtown at Amendment 21—a real classy joint. Slick floors, polished glasses, and the kinda shine that made you wanna wear Sunday clothes on a Friday night. I had a regular slot there for a couple years, and I wanted that stage to look like it meant somethin’. So I’d drop forty bucks every weekend, rent them lights.
Forty dollars. Every damn weekend. And I did that dance for a good while, thinkin’ I was savin’ money.
Then one day, the cat at the rental spot—might’ve been called Party Time, hell I can’t remember—he looked at me and said, “Why don’t you just buy the damn light?”
Held onto that light for years. It shined on more Molasses shows than I can count. But one night, my foot caught the cable just wrong—yanked it . it kept glitchin', flickerin’, refusin’ to shine the way it used to.
Still, I couldn’t let it go. Something in me said, Nah, don’t throw it out just yet. And today, I’m damn glad I listened.
See, I was watchin' an Erykah Badu concert—not just listenin’, but watchin’ the color, the mood, the whole damn aura. That’s when it clicked. Maybe this old busted light wasn’t meant for the tree no more. Maybe it had a new role to play.
So I dropped it low. Set it on the floor. Let it wash the walls in deep, soulful color. One hue at a time. Simple, strong. It worked. Just like that, the light had new purpose.
That’s how life be sometimes, y’know? Something breaks, but it ain’t useless. You just gotta find a new way to let it shine.
So thank you. For real. I’m off to go play with my lights now.
What’s somethin’ old in your life that might just need a new way to shine?