about magic.

Last November I found journal on a bookshelf in my hallway. It was 10 years old.

In a short passage, I’d remarked on how I overlook my coffee cup, though I interact with it daily. I thought about the people I overlook in the same way.

I wrote about that last year, about what happens when I remember not to do that.

I listen now. I listen. I’ve learned that magic happens when I listen. That people show me, tell me wonderful things about themselves. It’s as if they wait for someone who values what they say and then, they bring out their gifts and give them freely.

I look at my coffee cup. I used to think it was tool. Now I know it holds what I decide — a magic sweet as life.

This weekend I intend to listen with all my might.

Because I was right. Magic is sweet as life.