Life is magical

Amazing inspiring overwhelming ass-kicking magicalness. That’s why I am the way I am, act the way I act, do the things I do, work the work that I have chosen, because being alive is a fucking amazing magical thing that just to be part of it is so fucking overwhelming how could I not be stunned into silence at the beauty of it! Isn’t that the way?

The magic of being alive has never been something I’ve had to search for, work at, chase or even try to define, it was always there. Every day discovering new things that I didn’t know before, new patterns that I didn’t know were possible, an amazing present and history of life that was there to be absorbed every waking moment. Magic in it’s purest form – unrelenting heart-melting stunning fucking amazement every fucking day. Beauty condensed into a concentrated elixir so focused, so deliberate, the only result is an eternal, soul-wrenching addiction.

How the fuck does this fit into real life? There are the sacrifices that I make for what I deem socially acceptable behavior, of course, I totally understand and accept that. I want a job. I want to pay taxes. If it went to people of even moderate intelligence I’d gladly pay even more taxes. I want to provide for my family. I want my son to go to a safe school. I want to be able to go to a restaurant to eat dinner, too. Sure. But is that the trade off? Is that the black and white binary choice I have to make?
To get to the heart, for some reason, right now, in this instant, when all should be amazing and super, I don’t feel the magic. The spirits have left me, drifting, alone, waiting.


Maybe they are nearby, waiting for me to ask the right question. Maybe they are watching, observing, studying me until they can decide if I can handle the TRUTH. Or even recognize it.