Mini Essay: Meaning and Magic

Today, the sky is a vibrant blue, the trees alight in colors of yellow, orange, and brown, against this expansive backdrop of clear, wide wonder. A single crow skims quickly by, black wings busy against the blue. My rune of the day is the Moon and Star: rune of faith. Our goddess for next month is the Morrigan, I sense her already at the edges of things, beyond the threshold, guarding the liminal, fierce and clear and ready.

Yesterday, we went to a wedding. The bride I’ve known since she was a little girl, now resplendent in beaded white and shining with new love.

Today, I helped my sons register for college, a headache building behind my eyes as I doggedly attempt to reconcile schedules with future dreams.

At the wedding, I picked two yellow rose petals up from the path, plucked a piece of wheat from the hay bales on which we sat, smiled to hear wild geese calling as the vows were made.

Today, I sit thinking about how our lives are made of meaning, the ordinary and enchanted, all in one. The magical and the practical inextricably entwined.

We have a choice whether to see the world as full of meaning and magic or not. Either way we choose, we are right, and this will be what we see and how we live.

I choose meaning. I choose magic and delight. I choose enchantment and discovery. I choose to be here in open-hearted devotion to seeing all I can see.

And so, I press the yellow rose petals and sprig of wheat into the pages of my prayers, and then sit back to watch the sky.

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