I was sitting here thinking about my childhood.  About how everything seemed to hold magic and wonder.

I loved making up long stories about things with my little sister.  We’d build houses for wee folk in the woods, we’d dig a good-sized hole and fill it with water so they could take a swim and cool off from the heat of the day.  We’d watch birds fly, deer graze and hop in the fields.  Cows and horses would wander around and Toby the yellow lab would be on our heels keeping us out of trouble.  That dog would tell on us in a heartbeat.  😀

Everything held a kind of magic, the way the sun would stream through branches in the woods and leave patterns on the ground.  The  musty tang of leaves and the shush-shush as you walk through them.  The sharp scent of pine mingling with the mellow scent of oak, the mediciney smell of juniper, and the homey aroma of cedar.  The way snowflakes would almost dance in the air.  The indentations a rain drop makes in dry dusty soil.  The way it feels when it pours down on you after a long hot day.  Watching the water collect and run in rivulets and helping it get to bigger places by scratching a line in the ground with a stick.

I enjoyed catching honey bees in a mason jar so I could look at them and how they carried pollen around.  It always reminded me of saddlebags.  I’d catch lizards, frogs, toads, worms, fish, snakes (the non-venomous ones), birds, turtles, pretty much anything not nailed down.  I was a silent and quick little booger.  I’d catch these things and bring them home to my little sister and then we’d release them around the house, usually near the barn, creek,  woods, or pond depending on what it was.

What I’m trying to get at is, that everyday life held that little spark of excitement, of new things to explore and find out.  As I grew older the more science and theory I learned the more jaded I became.  The magic began to die for me.  What is life without magic?  Without something you cannot explain?  Something you just feel or have faith in?

Then I learned, scientists couldn’t explain how a bumblebee could fly because it was impossible.  The ruins of Plato’s Troy were uncovered, and two days ago I found a news article saying Atlantis may have been discovered in Spain near the Straits of Gibraltar, where Plato said it was, Fox News Report and MSNBC.  MSNBC has the better report 😉

This, in its self, has renewed my faith in magic.

1) Because for how many years have people said,  “Plato made up Troy, and Plato made up Atlantis.”?  The so call “experts” who thumb there nose at history and the past because it is not written in a way they can understand it.  It is built upon what the people of that time can understand.

2) Believing in something despite what all the skeptics say, fuels your inner child.  It keeps happiness in your life.  Because if you take all of the dirty facts and live on those alone, you grind away any hope of the future.



Nuclear Holocaust

Solar Storms (EMPs from solar flares)







Rudeness from other people

If you take all of these negativities and many more, and dwell upon them, you are going to eat yourself up with worry and stress.  These are real and just thinking and being afraid of them can cripple your spirit.  How do you get past fears?  With a little bit of magic, called hope.


A better paying job.

Going to the Beach

Helping someone who’s down and out

Taking walks

Appreciating what you have around you

Being thankful to be alive.

Being able to change a bad situation into a good one.  (By opening a door for someone who is having a rough day, you may have stopped verbal or physical violence.  Just by showing kindness.)

Hope is the magic that keeps us going.  It is the positive “What if?” and the acting upon it that gives our lives meaning.  So take the time to build wee folk houses and watch the pattern the rain makes in the dust and enjoy life.  Then take that joy and spread it through kindness and hope.