“We’ve got magic to do.” Stephen Schwartz, Pippin
Sometimes magic happens. Other times we are required to summon it. Either way, it shows us the way to a marvelous journey of wonder and delight.
Magic is the belief in the unknown, the strange, the hidden surprises. It is prayer. It is song. It is surprise.
I am a big believer in magic. Not the stage magician pulling rabbits out of a hat. That is more of a con than magic, the distraction of “look at this over here while I do something over there.” That has never enticed me, because I guess I’ve always known it is a type of deception, cloaked in falsehoods.
My belief is wide-open and transparent. It begins with the heart, and then ripples across the universe. It is the alchemy of laughter and music and a warm piece of pie. True magic is that first cup of coffee in the morning, an encouraging text from a friend, or finding a dove perched right outside my kitchen window.
All of this may seem ordinary, but it can be extraordinary if one believes in the magic of every day moments. The glitter and gold and special effects are fun, but not necessary to live a magical life.
I surround myself with friends who possess magic. They conjure up knowledge and strength and challenges. They sing lilting tunes fraught with mystical hope. They are my touchstones. They ground and encourage me to fly. This is magic.
I bake enchanted pies tucked with fruitful messages, and hope the concoction of butter and flour will deliver my heart with every bite. This is magic.
I write these words, wishing to heal my little corner of the world. This is magic.
Magic is the belief beyond the tangible. Some call it faith. Others call it dreaming. To me, it is simply love, a joy of radiant hope, a promise of amazement.
“We all have magic inside us.” – J.K. Rowling
“Do not long forget to be in awe of this precious short life.” – Waylon Lewis