Magic has come to mean disappearing rabbits, or vanishing pretty women. Magic is not that, at all.
Magic, to me, is all that we do not understand in the world around us. Anything that makes one stand in awe is magic.
The most magical of all is love. Love changed me. It transformed me. It gave me reasons to live, when I had none before.
I can not longer travel extensively, but when I look out my window at newly-planted roses, and watch them grow day by day, I feel I am seeing magic.
The Celtic people of Europe, Britain, and Ireland felt the magic of nature. Their world view is very similar, in some ways, with the world view of of the native Americans of North and South America.
Have we lost something? Have we lost the ability to perceive things at their most basic level, to be reverential of all things, to reach out and touch someone with our minds? I don’t think so. I think my ability to perceive these things may have fallen asleep and, now, I search for ways to wake it up, to cast off the prevailing dream of an exclusively-technological world and re-enter the hidden dimensions of the true world around me.
As far as we know, we are the only beings who can remember the past, see the present, and plan for the future. My question is this: Have we been put here to be aware of an otherwise unaware universe of explosions, destructions, and changes?
I wonder.
I will always wonder.
Wonder is magic.
