Magic

At certain points in my life, I feel as if I have been touched by something a little more than ordinary, perhaps something a little bit extra. Do you know the feeling? It’s that joy you feel when something your purest essence wants, and you receive it. It’s a spark in your soul, a glimmering light, that bit of magic when it’s a little too much to be pure coincidence. I’m sure you’ve felt it.

I’m not a believer in destiny, at least not in the purest sense; I’m also not a believer in pure chance. I think the Universe is a complex infrastructure of both chance and purpose; perhaps they’re interchangeable to some degree. I haven’t always had a certain set of beliefs in regards to how things align or how the larger picture works, even now it eludes me, but I have always carried around something that felt like an unmistakable spark of magic. Even in my darkest moments, I have felt it. My experience as a child wasn’t one that encouraged the growth of such belief, that somewhere out there is a real magic, that something out there is carried by the sweetest, most kind intention, if only you would believe. Children’s stories tend to plant the seed, but it isn’t always watered by the environment and many seeds often wither and dry up long before they should, creating a seemingly dim reality at an early stage.

Somehow, either by my truest nature, or by chance, or something entirely different, my seed didn’t die. It stayed dormant. For whatever reason, it started sprouting again more recently, delighting me again in the possibility that maybe magic can be real if only I believe. Not only can it be real, I ponder, but also potentially simple, impartial, and endlessly fertile if and when we are able to face the potential reality that everything else is the illusion.

Thanks to whatever events that have lined up in the manner that they did, and the synchronicities that try to shout their presence to me daily, I am on my way.