Continuing 2026 as my “year of magic,” I wanted to report in. As a general rule, I find February problematic – in my part of the country, it tends to be dark and gloomy. But the start of this February, we had a lovely snowfall, which made the short days much easier to enjoy and my intention to look hard every day for little glimmers of beauty and gentleness also made February a better month for me. (Seek and ye shall find, indeed!)
Yesterday was a warmer, blue-sky day (we’ve had a lot of cold and grey lately), so I went into town and took a walk. While cleaning out a drawer, I came across a pair of wired earbuds and decided to try something new. I’m not usually much of a podcast person, although I have a number of them saved to get to “one of these days.” The walk I had planned was on a level, paved trail, so I found a “mindfulness for beginners” podcast with an episode on working with a “to do” list. Interestingly, when I got to the part of the podcast that had a guided meditation, I was right by a park bench, so I sat down for a few minutes and participated in the first part of the guided meditation before continuing my walk. The super-nice part was that, since the guided meditation has plenty of silent space, I had the opportunity to really be aware of where I was. For the first time in a long time, I paid attention to the birdsong in the trees, which are beginning to bud. I heard a frog in the little creek that runs alongside the trail. I really felt my feet on the pavement. In short, I was actually present on my walk, instead of trying to get in X distance in Y minutes.
In its own way, it was magical.
It was also magical to snip some camellias from the bush in my back yard and bring them inside for the mantel. It was magical to go to a women’s meditation. It was magical to take two minutes at work and train up a plant on a support stake so it could grow stronger. It was magical to go to a Valentine dagger workshop and insist that I remain left-handed. It was magical to go to a church for Ash Wednesday, misread the schedule, and yet still have ashes imposed and be reminded that I come from dust, and to dust I shall return (therefore, I have an obligation to Get Busy in the meantime). It was magical to begin the 100 Day Art Project and have friends over to paint watercolor cinnamon buns. And it was magical to make a pot of soup for the local Pride Soup Night and share community with delightful people who often feel marginalized in my small Southern town.
In short, magic isn’t stirring foul-smelling fragments into a bubbling cauldron while cackling and wishing ill on people.
Magic is vulnerability and a willingness to try something new without a guarantee. It’s being willing to learn who you are and shore up the parts of that that you like and admire. It’s taking care of things that matter and it’s building community with like-minded souls around you.
And this is the year for it.
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