“The world is full of magic things, patiently waiting for our senses to grow sharper.” W.B. Yeats
I’m opening more and more to the idea that “extra” ordinary things are happening all the time, and that our job is to simply notice the presence of magic in and all around us. How enigmatic that for all of my anxiety and worrying about life—all of my skepticism and pessimism—I possess a knowing that events are always unfolding according to a bigger plan! Even when things go wrong—even when I’m suffering— I have witnessed synchronicities, inexplicable timing, and circumstances that have ushered me closer to wholeness. Closer to the experience of true joy. Indeed, there is obvious magic going on inside of me, and (dare I say it!) deep within each of us every time we are ready to really be still, watch, listen, and receive. And in these moments, messages are raining down: little drops of wisdom that urge us to new truths about ourselves and what is REAL in this life.
But beyond the magic of what’s going on inside us humans, I am beginning to appreciate the little miracles cloaked in the most ordinary moments of every day. I notice only the smallest fraction of them, but when I set out to see something, and let my surroundings speak to me—they almost always do! This week I spent time observing my little pot of moss roses open as the morning light was spreading across the patio, and then close when there was no sun to be found. I realize there are scientific reasons for this marvel, but the most natural of occurrences can be pretty mind boggling—and they point to an even deeper understanding of our own selves. I couldn’t help but be amazed by how this little plant— with no eyes to see or skin to feel—maintained constant awareness: more in tune, more present to the sun than I can ever hope to be. Looking even more closely—I noticed how each flower was opening in its own time, when it was “ready,” without concern for the process and trajectory of those around it. And then seeing all those various stages of openness work together to create this thing of beauty that reveals itself in a new way, every moment of every single day. A pot of ordinary, everyday magic—a vessel of truth sitting on my back porch.
I’m currently in the middle of a meditation course titled The Magic of Life by Jonathan Lehmann. And probably the most striking thing about the exercises has been how much magic we find even in the basic aspects of living. Just by paying close attention to the breath, by witnessing the automatic beating of the heart, by thanking all the bodily systems that just do what they are intended to do without a single conscious thought—we open ourselves to the marvel of these “soul containers.”
And then there is the mysterious power of our thoughts in the cosmos of the mind: thoughts that can guide us toward wisdom and light, but can also be our most formidable adversary in the battle against human suffering. We are unequivocal miracles— just by sitting and thinking about our lives, ourselves, and attempting to make meaning of it all.
I think I mentioned how much I crave a certain level of intensity and depth of emotion in order to feel truly alive. My comfort zone resides in the extraordinary, but I’m keenly aware that not everyone has this same perspective. There are many souls in my world who prefer a more “grounded” and practical explanation for life’s unfolding mysteries. But to me—there’s even magic in this: we are meant to share this diversity of human experience—and to be awestruck by the complexity of our unique wiring and perspectives. So even though I have a part of me that doesn’t want to share my spirit stories for fear that they will be misunderstood, I have a strong intuition that this is the time for taking such a risk. My dream persists: to tell stories and mingle with others who have found a similar path and have the courage to share.
So with that in mind, I’m going to stay attuned to everyday miracles over the next several weeks, and put them out here. I’d love to hear about your everyday magic… shout them out in a comment!