Existential
Magic
“…I’ll
tell you that it’s magic
How
a butterfly exists
That
there’s something most spellbinding
About
metamorphosis…”
Becky
Hemsley (from “Magic” in Talking to the Wild, Wildmark Publishing, 2021)
There are miniature butterfly bushes in Jerry and Susan’s garden. Every day since I’ve been here, multiple black and yellow swallowtail butterflies are working them. Lots of smaller winged-ones, whose names I do not know, cluster together on the purple blossoms like English ladies sitting down to tea. And yesterday, a monarch flitted about. There are several large bird feeders covered in yellow finches brighter than sunflowers. In fact, it’s a regular wildlife preserve outside. I don’t know why a butterfly still seems magical to me, but it does.
In fact, if I couldn’t find the things in this world that speak magic to me, I don’t think I could bear all the rest of it. There is wonder in a flight of birds moving in tandem high above the trees, and in the way a hummingbird hangs in midair to sip nectar from a flute of red salvia. In the way deer, as large as they are, seem to materialize on the periphery of the forest waiting for an opportunity to drink from a pond, or munch grasses in a field. The whole process of watching a shoot of chartreus green pop through the black mulch and rapidly spread into a field of creeping Jenny still holds wonder for me.
Magic
is everywhere if you’re looking for it. And if you’re not looking for it, Jesus
himself could beam down from heaven right in front of you and not be noticed. Open
your eyes, tune into awe, invoke your spirit of wonder, and you’ll see you are
surrounded by magic at every turn.
In
the Spirit,
Jane
No comments:
Post a Comment