Deep peace of the quiet earth to you. 

Hope for us yet.

December 22, 2016

 

I believe in magic; I hope for magic. I just can't seem to muster up faith in magic. But I keep thinking, if I clap my hands, get into the woods and bang my drums, wave my chimes loudly enough and with all the cheer and joy I can muster (throwing in a few never-to-be-seen dance steps), then I can't go wrong. 

 

Can we invent joy*, invent magic, simply by being willfully joyful? I think we can. 

 

Well. Either way, I'll keep collecting pretty stones, bells that remind me of a time at sea I've never seen, and drums that resonate and salt my blood with the sand of deserts I'll never visit. 

 

Magic is welcome here. 

 

*Note--joy is different than happiness or gratitude. The latter two can, I think, be forced or faked. The former is nothing but a spontaneous eruption of a hodgepodge of blissy happiness we're lucky enough to experience from time to time. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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