The Magic in a Day

I use the word “magic” a lot. It’s right up there with “spirit,” “soul,” “sparkle,” “twinkle” and “glimmer” for me. Sometimes I feel like I need to bond with a thesaurus for a few hours while I find other options, perhaps better options. But there’s something about the perfect simplicity of those words that generally sums up exactly what I’m feeling.

Today, I encounted a sprinkling of magic in tiny little events — one after the other.

For starters, Monday was bypassed. Always a good thing.

Second, I woke up sans-headache — and since I get them often, not having one is always a great start to the day.

I used to listen to Pandora a lot while working, but haven’t done it yet at the new gig. It would’ve been too distracting while learning new stuff, too procrastination-inducing. Last Friday, however, was a good day and one during which I didn’t need much guidance. I did, however, decide that I needed a bit of background music for the work I had to crank out. I fired up Pink Floyd radio and tackled some emails, two Excel spreadsheets, one Word document and worked on a PowerPoint presentation. I was on a roll.

Today I decided to continue my headache-free zen state by seeing if there was an Enya channel. Not surprisingly, there was. I spent the next few hours in my zone, until at one point I heard an instrumental, piano-centric piece that was so beautiful my head shot up from what I was working on and I almost started to cry as I sat paralyzed for a few seconds.

Such beauty in those notes! So fluid the phrasing, so emotional the melody. “Song for Sienna” by Brian Crain had me captivated immediately, and I clicked from my Excel spreadsheet over to Pandora to see exactly what was playing. As of this writing, I’m staring at the torn piece of paper I scribbled the song’s name onto so that I could bring it home and see if iTunes had it.

And it does.

My mom tells me that when I was little, I would watch Sesame Street and — if nobody moved me away from the television in time, turned the channel or turned the TV off entirely — I would start to cry at the sound of the chimes which ended each episode. I’ve tried to look them up on YouTube or anywhere else online, and I can’t find them. It’s probably just as well, though…because as much as I’d like to see if there’s any connection between the melody of those chimes and the songs that have moved me to similar emotions over the years, I know what it is: it’s simply the beauty in the notes.

After my encounter with the song, I had to borrow a magazine from someone because I needed to scan a feature in it for a client. I ended up thumbing through the magazine, which was an issue of Psychology Today, and there was an article in it with a headline that read, “Are You Single at Heart?” with a subhead that said, “Maybe some people are meant to fly (happily) through life solo.”

I’m not going to lie — I’m pretty happy flying solo. Or, rather, “content” is the right word. I appreciate the beauty of others’ relationships when it’s the right one and when their union shines a light of happiness, but sometimes it seems like you find those examples far too often. My parents have it, and I wish more people did. It might give me courage to go out and find it for myself, but for now, I’m not feeling the need to seek one out, nor am I feeling the absence of a relationship.

At any rate, the article was beautifully written and without an ounce of bitterness, which is often hard to do when discussing singledom. Sometimes stating a fact can come across as scorned or self-righteous when it isn’t intended to be. The article was one that was like a friendly hand on my shoulder at a time when I occasionally wonder if there’s something wrong with me for not wanting to be coupled up with another. I realize that I’m in a minority, but the way everything was articulated was calming. It gave me a playful, “Shush,” and made me feel normal. And with that, I finished reading, turned the page and moved on.

After the magazine article, I wandered into the agency kitchen and came across a section of the newspaper that was anemic, at best. Its content was shallow, lacking, and while this blog doesn’t contain such deep writing that it would ever be sought out, it gave me a shot of courage and made me want to contact the editor whose name was listed at the top. I spent the entire drive home thinking about how I would do that, what I would say, if I should go in with heart-on-sleeve, or keep my hand close to the vest. I haven’t figured it out yet, and then I started wondering if I should finish this blog first to be able to say I actually did it every day for a year so that I could have something to show. But then, why wait?

Why wait when there’s such magic in a day that can inspire, can propel and can buoy the soul to a place that it hadn’t been mere moments before?

Tonight I am thankful for the magic in a day that can masquerade as a mere moment to others. We all have them, they’re just different depending on our paths. What are your magic moments? What tiny events are the spiritual equivalent of a shift in the breeze? What seconds of time take your eyes from their focus on a paper or a computer screen and lift them up to the heavens?

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