I use the word “magical” quite a bit. It seems like a perfect adjective to describe certain places.
How else do you describe the dangling greens tucked up underneath a desert waterfall? Or the way the water shimmers as it dribbles down a rock face, the sun hitting it just right? Or a day that allows you to hike through canyons, traversing creeks that take several steps to get across, and ends with a tent on the bank of the water?
Magical. It’s really the best word for so many things, even beyond places.
The flavors of your favorite dish, especially when you don’t think you can go another minute without eating. That laugh, the really hard one, that escapes your kid as they experience something that is bringing them absolute joy.
An unexpected deposit.
I just think the universe gives us magic every day, if we decide to be open to the possibility. If we train ourselves to be aware of its presence. If we find ways to appreciate things for what they are, which would mean finding a way to truly appreciate our place in this whole real-life drama.
That little piece of magic might be a friendly call from someone you haven’t talked to in ages, but think of often. It might be a formative phrase you’re able to pluck from a passage or a podcast and find ways to use it as a prescription for whatever you’re dealing with.
It might also just be a pleasant commute. No traffic. No accidents. That’s magical, on some level.
In a world where seemingly everything is fueled by a sophisticated algorithm, where we can’t really even choose the news we see, isn’t it wonderful to consider the bits of magic that still exist despite a technological onslaught?
I think so. That’s why I believe in these little moments of magic. And embrace them as such.
A night sky full of lightning. A run without ever cramping. His hand in mine.
Not everything boils down to a formula. There is still plenty of room for serendipity and coincidence and magic.
And that’s pretty magical.