A Little Magic
I am a realist to a fault. I still watch romantic comedies.
In the end, all the right people fall in love with whoever they were supposed to and there is the idea of happily ever after: roll credits, magic ends.
The touch and taste and sound of everything around me is the effect of a cause that happened upstream somewhere. In the experience, I can’t see the forest for the trees.
Not to say any of this is a problem - it’s just hard to look at the world with wonder and awe when you are also calculating all of the consequences that led to what is laid out before you. It is the how of things.
We bought a house the other day. A simple two-story house with an enormous porch on property ripe with trees, rose bushes, a bit of lawn, and a little creek that always flows. Last night we stopped by the house at dusk to show it around to visitors.
As we were leaving, we noticed the flicks of light among the trees, over the lawn, along the creek bed. I haven’t seen fireflies in about 20 years, and here they were. We had put in for a lottery to take a tour to the nearby national forest to view the fireflies at their peak season - we lost, but here they were anyway.
With no furniture at the house, we sat on the driveway and watched the lights for a while. The night faded, it grew darker, the lights glowed brighter. We sat there until the mosquitos made themselves known and left for the night.
This is the why of things.
Most of us know how to hike up a mountain. Few of us know the why.
Most of us know why the environment around us is falling apart. Few of us, it seems, know why we should care.
A world of practical and realist thinkers may sound the alarm and put together the plans, but it takes a little magic for the rest of us to see the why behind the how.