Some of us just know. We grew up believing in the monsters in the closet and the fairies in the garden like most children. The difference is as adults we just learned to stop talking about them, not believing.
We know the twinkle of lights that catch our eye is not seen by everyone or that the fluttering of a single leaf on a tree is where a fairy is playing. We know by the feel of the breeze if it is signaling a change of weather or if it’s bringing something in or blowing it out. We feel the change of seasons like electricity before the first snowflake falls or first crocus blooms. And try as we might to ignore the nagging whisper of “something’s not right here” it inevitably comes to pass with a much louder “told you so.”
Whether it’s the voice of God, the universe, or our own intuition, it’s there.
Two of my most vivid memories as a child were pretending I was in another realm with the fairies and dressing up as a fortune teller in my grandmother’s long colorful skirts and scarves with a globe from a light fixture as my crystal ball. I have no idea where either of those ideas came from at such a young age.
In the mystery and horror television shows I loved to watch I never wanted to be the main character, I always wanted to be the witch or little old woman who lived way back in the woods. I wanted that wisdom, to know what people needed before they ever even asked.
I’m not the little wise woman in the woods yet, but I’m working on it.
I feel sorry for those who can’t see the nearly invisible web of life around them. How everything is connected, and nothing is coincidence. How there is magic hovering in the air, in the earth, and inside of every living being, just waiting to be tapped into and used to help us through this confusing existence. You have to believe in the wonders of the world to see them, otherwise you will miss out on so many miracles.