Let it Swirl

Have you ever sat in silence with eyes closed and envisioned leaves gathered all around. As you release your mind to days gone by, the leaves swirl; each one a different memory or place in time. That is how it feels for me, when I look back.

Time is now. So with that, memories strike me as an odd thing. They happened, but in the now that was then. I can recall them, feel them, see them and hear them as if living in the moment. Knowing all the while the moment then – is now.

This being the case, one would think we could do this for future events as well. But as of yet I haven’t been able to figure out the magic in doing so. I will. But not tonight. Of course déjà vu being the exception.

Life is magical to me. It just is. When writing, my fingers move without my mind rarely able to predict which word it will see next. My life seems to operate in much the same way as well. I don’t mind. In fact, it suites me. To some extent. There are days however, such as this morning, when I prayed for a Magic 8 Ball to be placed in my hands. One that held its power not from a plastic icosahedron held within a watery substance, but from the Universe and All That Is. Had I held one such as that, I would have shaken the life out of it, muttered my question then peeked cautiously at the answer revealed.

Although I feel answers to prayer can come in any form. I ardently feel the power behind all things is our belief. If there is one word that makes it’s way into my prayers more than any other it would be: Believe. Second would be: Peace. Oddly enough, the first word, often brings about the feeling of the second.

We are like that of an iceberg, I feel. Our mechanic human form is the tip, but beneath the water dwells our spirit. Often what is below, is left unacknowledged. But there it remains, regardless of our attention. And the part that lurks below operates on the level that we believe; fueled by thought; powered by feeling. And because its outward manifestations are often flabbergasting, it feels much like magic when witnessed. But that magic is just as commonplace as the air we breathe. Some times we take a deep breath, at other times we live with a chest held tight. But the air is accessible, regardless of what we do with it.

So the magic that lives within the palpable sensations of a memory from my youth is the magic that allows for that which rests on my heart to manifest. And that manifestation is determined by my level of belief. So when I am at a loss for words. When I am vexed. When I feel a wave of panic or frustration I simply say: Believe.

Within the magic lives many nuances. Some elate me. Some comfort me. Some perplex me. Some truly baffle me. Yet, there is no other place I would rather be, than living with the magic that swirls around me.

Sane

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