I know that there’s more going on here than meets the eye. I’ve always known it. I’ve always felt it. And we’re here in the strange middle between birth and death, gasping and clawing for something that pierces our hard shells with beauty and truth.
I’m trying to find those moments. Trying to parse out the real, loamy grit from the inauthentic, from the plastic, from the hollow. And yes, I’m looking for the magic.
Magic often feels at odds with the logical, rational parts of ourselves. But in the same way that we allow for the heady beauty and invisible truth of poetry, I believe that we can allow for the truth of magical moments to cut through our heavy minds and let in some of the light.
And so I’ll be here, allowing for magic.
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Allowing for Magic 