Today I am lucky to have another sunny morning, with a light breeze. Where I live, a light breeze is welcome. (the lake likes to give us gusting wind) The soft kiss on my cheek to let me know the wind blowers are still about. One should never take the wind blowers for granted.
They are brothers and sisters, in a constant battle for supremacy. Some days they work in unison, but usually they like to fight. Just watch the clouds as they float by. Some are pushed one way, and other the opposite. “Don’t push your clouds to me,” they holler at each other. Us mortals only hear it as wind whistling through the trees. Sometimes they rage, and if you are on the sea, you suffer the wrath.
I enjoy when the breeze is about. My windchimes tell dark spirits to stay away, and help fairies flit about the petals of my flowers. When a dandelion is ready to burst its white seeds, a breeze helps them dance. “Farewell” say the fairies, for it is they who nurtured the dandelion to this point. They are sad for only a breath, for more flowers require their attention.
Today I will listen to the whispers. The wind has many stories, and if you listen with your imagination, you might be lucky enough to hear one.
Why do we stop believing? Why does our imagination go to sleep, and rarely show itself?
Today I began outlining a part of my next novel, and for some reason this popped into my head. Why?
Why do we allow the magic of this world to fade?
We reach a certain age, and begin to hear ‘it’s time to grow up – take on some responsibilities’. I say poppycock! The two do not have to go hand in hand. Yes you need to be responsible, and make tough decisions: be an adult. What does that have to do with growing up?
There needs to be more magic in our lives. Go back to days laying in a bed of wildflowers, listening to fairies giggle all about you. Days where your decisions depended on a daisies petals. Creating bouquets from dandelions. Rain never stopped anything from happening, only changed what was going on.
I remember picking up a stick and pretending it was a wand. “Grow taller” I would order a tree, and it would respond by stretching even higher into the sky. Standing on a cliff I would demand the wind blow harder, and it would make certain to act accordingly.
So dance in the rain! If you take children to a park, play with them. Stare at the clouds, and create a world of your own within the shapes. Use a daisy to make a choice. Play and laugh.
Bring back magic lost. You just might be better for it.