When did I get so muted, so toned-down, so passive about life?
When did I agree to live the narrative of being a tired stay-at-home mom who worries all the time about whether or not her kids ate their vegetables and got to bed on time?
In this wildly vivid technicolor experience of life where I’m surrounded by inexplicable walking and talking miracles (and I am one myself)
When did I buy into the story that it’s all so simple and explainable and monotonous?
In a world where anything can happen and I can be anyone or anything that I want to be
When did I start believing that it was all so simple and explainable?
When did the magical ripples of electricity pulsating through my body become a story about anxiety?
When did the vast sensation of pressure and heaviness that I sometimes feel get stuck with a slick little label of depression?
When did I stop feeling wonder and wondering?
How can I even feel these things?
How am I even here?
How are you here?
How is this possible?
And don’t give me a quick little pithy response of
“Oh, well God…” or
“Oh, well evolution…” or
“Oh, well science…”
HOW?
How is this happening?
It’s pure magic.
Why would I ever live pretending that it isn’t?
My whole life, I’ve been a living embodiment of magic and the whole time I was believing and acting like the whole thing was so normal
So much passivity
Such a lack of enthusiasm and oomph
Magic believing it was lackluster and boring
What a waste!
And yet totally unavoidable.
Until now.
Thank God (whoever that is).
Maybe tomorrow night I’ll stay up late and sleep under the stars with my kids.
Who knows.
Anything is possible.
We are made of magic.
Photo by Chris Malinao Burgett on Unsplash