Everyday Magic

Most days, when I wake up, I don’t think about whether to put on my “sensible hat” or my “crazy hat.” Truth is, hats—and perfume—give me a headache. But some days, I feel logical, rational, and practical; other days I feel like a floating cloud. I suppose it’s no secret by now which kind of day I like best.

            Yes, although I am surrounded by quite a few friends and family members who do not subscribe to my “magical” view of life (as well as, thankfully, quite a few who are on the same page) I find that it’s my preferred approach to dealing with reality. And I’m not talking about magic “tricks” like disappearing pennies and rabbits that come out of—ahem—hats.

            I’m talking about everyday magic like finding one solitary peppermint tea bag in a box of black tea in the cupboard when your stomach is bothering you, even though there isn’t a single box of peppermint tea anywhere in the house. I’m talking about the phone ringing precisely when you are thinking about that certain someone, or a sign on the road that says “slow down” just when you were thinking of speeding.

            Some people attribute this stuff to God, the “Universe,” angels, leprechauns, or any number of sources. I personally like to think of it as everyday magic, and I don’t really care where it comes from, as long as it comes. In fact, these days, I depend upon signs, signals, and mantras. I’m done with a world where everything is supposed to add up or be explained. If I can’t explain it, all the better (not that I’m against science!). But who would like to explain to me why—when I was just 24 years old—my husband-to-be found us an apartment in New York City exactly one block away from my childhood best friend whom I had lived exactly one block away from all my life (he had no idea, btw, that this friend was even living in Manhattan). This is the sort of thing I mean.

            Or why a yoga studio opened on the corner of my street the very same year I decided to try doing yoga (which completely changed my life)? Or…why every time I’m deeply missing my mother, a butterfly seems to pop up (it might not be a real butterfly, especially in winter).

            I’m sure you have things like these in your life, magical happenings that you can’t explain (coincidence? karma? a chemical reaction? the "Intervening Hand?"). Whatever the case, I am extremely grateful for what I don’t understand. I, for one, believe in—nay, absolutely rely upon--the gift of magic, every single day.