As John Lennon said:”Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans.”
For the last couple of days I’ve begun to notice signs in my life guiding me in a direction that I wouldn’t even have thought of myself. It made me think of routine and of the ideas we have about life; how it’s supposed to look, where we think we want to go or have to go etcetera. Ideas/plans which we get so caught up in that we miss what’s right in front of us.
Sometimes our plans make us lose ourselves to the degree that we one day wake up to find ourselves enveloped in a seemingly endless greyish fog. The fog of routine.
It often reveals itself when night falls and things slow down a bit, yet it might come to us in any given moment of the day when silence descends. It might be when we shut down our laptops, put away the IPads, put our children to bed or stand in line at the grocery store.
Often it is right before bedtime that the fog creeps in the windows along with an uncomfortable suspicion that the day, lying there curled up and spent in the corner of the room, hasn’t been used as it should have. That somehow we missed the essence of it, the gifts that were tied to its skirts.
A sociologist would call this phenomenon disenchantment. The loss of a sense of magic.
How do we find magic again then? We can start by revisiting that place in our hearts, as Doris Day sings about below, where our secret love resides. Of course our secret love does not have to be a person. It can be any dream really.
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