We all start out knowing magic. We are born with whirlwinds, forest fires, and comets inside us. We are born able to sing to birds and read the clouds and see our destiny in grains of sand. But then we get the magic educated right out of our souls.
– Robert McCammon
Conversing with a dear friend this morning over coffee, we touched on this, though not with these particular words. We weren’t talking about magic, or, at least that’s not the language we cloaked it in.
We were talking about pausing and seeing moments of goodness, places where our gratitude could spark and flare into life, so we could balance our perspective of this world.
But, really, we were talking about magic. That ability to see what’s not always readily seen and the ability to feel the truth of that hidden gift.
There are simple things that inspire a small child to utter enchantment, moments of time that widen their grins and fill their eyes with shiny wonderment. I am no different, but I’ve learned over time to dismiss such possibilities as unimportant or unproductive.
I can get lost in worrying and managing and planning for this life that I forget to enjoy it as it is, right now. There is always something to see, to notice, to breathe in.
Weathered Well 