When I think about magic, mighty shimmery green and blue aurora Borealis wandering in the sky comes to my mind. I haven’t witnessed one yet, however that’s exactly what magic would seem like, I marvel.
I think of the Sun. No matter how many times we see it rise and wane, the composition of its light with the blue, grey or clear sky and the clouds create magic.
Sea reflecting the bright hues of yellow and orange with silhouettes of tiny boats and birds flying back to their homes during sun down, make magic.
Psithurium of tall trees in high mountains where teeny-tiny birds weave their nests and sing with the wind, create magic.
The air eroding and carving paths on rocky lands with river meandering through the foot of the cliffs and the wind howling strongly feeding you it’s strength, makes magic.
An early morning chirping of birds that has power to heal your broken soul, is magic.
Being far, far away from someone in years and in miles with warm feelings unaltered by time and space, says a lot about magic.
In mornings, when a small bakery en route work entralls you with a whiff of freshly baked warm and light loaf of bread that transports you to your home, that’s magic.
There’s so much magic around. It is created in moments where we may not expect. Magic happens when we open ourselves to it knowingly, unknowingly.