Magical?

Pismo Beach 4I’m listening to the rain…as it tings against metal, splashes into the small puddles forming, drops onto leaves and flowers, tinkles through gutters.

How does it know to rain?  How does the rain know to fall?  As a friend asks, “How do the trees know how to grow?”

Gravity holds us to the earth, limits our escape to inches and seconds.  Gravity is what influences the rain to cascade down, brings the blanket of snow crystals on cold winter nights.

Gravity is defined.  It is The Law.  Does naming it make it any less magical?

Life is magical, I think.  From earthly particles stuck and blended together–living, breathing, moving entities.  Thinking, laughing, and loving.  How does that happen?

You can explain the physics of hurricanes and thunderstorms; they still feel magical to me.

Every cell in our body cycles through life-and-death, and gets replaced.  Yet, our memories, thoughts, beliefs, fears, and values remain.  We retain our “ME.”  How?

So, yeah.  I accept that there are things in this world that I’ll likely never understand…or am I supposed to.  I’m okay with that.

Magic.  Yeah, magic.

 

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