This morning it is easy to believe in magic. At the sun slowly rises out of the aegean sea and the sound of crashing waves envolopes my experience. The old sea battering this old Island saturated with myth and magic.
The little boy in me stirs filled with wonder and awe. The wonders of story, the wonders of myth, the wonders of love, the wonders of passion, the wonders of legend, the wonders of life.
Yet this is not the goal. It is easy to believe in magic and wonders when you are surrounded by paradisiacal vistas. But what about a Monday morning, waking up in the place where you spend most of your days, when the chips are down and unpaid bills spill out over the kitchen table, when the sound of waves and cicadas are replaced by the sound of grumpy children and the morning traffic. When it is drizzling rain or horizontal sleet is hitting your face as you trudge of to wherever your daily hamster wheel of accruing income to pay for your daily bread. What about the magic of Monday mornings, of everyday work and paying bills. What about the magic of sitcom Tuesday with familiarity all around.
That is the real magic, when I can find the wonder and the magic in a Thursday morning standing at the cash register at ICA. When we can find the excitement and the power to be open, loving, living in the ordinary, then we will find that all of life is truly extraordinary.
