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Morning Meditation - Let Go and Allow

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Gazing at magic

Photo courtesy of
http://www.moonbattery.com/

*This post was originally written in July of 2010.  It remains one of my favorite childhood memories of the Christmas holidays, so I was inspired to share it again. Please note that some of the photos depicted only have Bing images as provenance, as Blogger didn't offer the feature of annotating photos when this post was originally written.*

When I was very young, we lived in a small, single wide trailer.  The space was limited, with the washing machine in the one bathroom, and the clothes dryer set into a corner of the small living room.  It was next to the clothes dryer that we always set up the Christmas tree, against the wall to allow for the rest of the floor space to be clear.  This meant that there was just enough space between the branches of the tree and the dryer for the clothes dryer door to be opened and the controls to be reached.  It was also just enough space for one wee little girl to scoot in and sit with back against the clothes dryer, feet tucked close, elbows on knees to support small chin on small hands....and gaze upward at the twinkling lights.

I was spellbound by the beauty of each year's Christmas tree.  The tinsel softly shifting and catching and reflecting the tree lights.  The tree lights themselves were a whole fascinating experience all their own.  Who remembers the individual painted lightbulbs that had to be screwed into the individual sockets on the strings of Christmas tree lights?  They also had individual, colored reflectors, stamped out of solid sheets of metal with fluted edges that could be deadly sharp, and these reflectors could be fitted between the light bulb and the socket, securing them as decoration.

Photo courtesy of
Bing images

The light bulbs were easily the size of a man's thumb and were coated with opaque primary colored paint...red, green, yellow, blue and orange.  I found this one photo to the left of these old beauties. The lady in the photo is country music legend, Brenda Lee. While these lights don't have the metal wheel reflectors I've attempted to describe, it gives you an idea of what I'm talking about. We would sit on the floor with my Mother, painstakingly testing each light socket and bulb, selecting the colors so that they didn't repeat, and choosing with equal precision the reflector wheels.  We always made strings of popcorn and cranberries, as money was limited to purchase expensive garland.  The few garlands that we did have were made of a tightly wound tinfoil, sometimes dual colored, others were gold or silver, and were crinkly and rustling in our hands as they were strung around the tree.

To a small child, the finished result, covered in clumps of silver tinsel when we would grow tired of the decorating process, was always beautiful.  I could sit quietly tucked between the clothes dryer and Christmas tree and look at all the colors and textures.  Gazing upward into the tree provided a whole different perspective than you could get from standing in front of it and viewing it.  Looking upwards, all the lights cast a soft, lambent glow that seemed to fill the inner spaces of the tree and produce a fairytale atmosphere.  Even at that young an age, I was weaving stories in my head about the things that captured my imagination.

Photo courtesy of
Bing images

At some point, my Mom would notice I was missing and call my name, walking by and not thinking to look for me tucked down beneath the tree.  "Here I am," I would smile up at her, waving a hand to catch her attention.  "What are you doing down there on the floor?" was usually her question.  "Watching the magic...it's so pretty!"  One evening, to my everlasting delight, my wonderful Mom didn't ask the usual question.  Instead, she carefully shifted the Christmas tree slightly sideways, got down on the floor next to me and joined me in my nightly routine.  We sat there, me tucked cozily against my Mom's side, her clean, soft fragrance touching my senses, her heartbeat against my ear as I cuddled close.  She reached over and caught my hand in hers, and we gazed at magic together. 

My older sister and brother were occupied with a game and we weren't interrupted....something very rare for the youngest of three, as I was, to get such an extended quiet moment with our Mom.  She was raising us alone and dealing with very challenging circumstances.  Money was always an issue, yet she found ways to make our childhood carefree, secure and content.  And that particular evening, she indulged my whimsical nature by joining me and gazing at magic. 

Eventually, something broke the spell and the moment ended.  Dinner needed to be fixed, small bodies needed baths and bedtime loomed imminent.  But for that one lovely moment, we just sat there together and gazed up from the floor into the heart of that Christmas tree, hypnotized and enthralled by the warm glow of lights and decorations.  I can remember my Mom climbing to her feet, extending a hand to pull me up, and bending down to kiss me, saying, "Thank you, honey.  That was beautiful.  Let's do it again soon."

Have you ever tried this?  This year during the winter holiday season, if you decorate a Christmas tree in your home, take a few moments to sit on the floor, close in to the tree, and gaze upwards into the center of it.  I sometimes will even lie down on the floor and scoot directly underneath the tree to gain the best view.  It might sound slightly bizarre, but I assure you it will provide you with a breathtaking experience.  Clear your mind and simply gaze at the magic.

It might seem odd that this post was originally written during July, having Christmas as a focal point.  I don't know why the thoughts twined together to produce this blog article with a Christmas theme during summer months in East Tennessee, but I feel it expressed a valuable and beloved memory that was worth sharing, regardless of the time of year.

Such are some of the blissful moments of my childhood.  My beautiful Mom sheltered us from the challenging reality of admittedly difficult times and provided a secure, loving and nurturing home.  She also allowed for those magical moments and on occasion, she would embrace them and join us.  This Christmas tree moment is one of my most cherished memories.  From that day and many others, I learned to embrace my ability to find magic in the most unexpected places and it is something that gives me particular joy.  It is a connection to my wonderful Mom, who recognized that evening, that her youngest child was slightly different, slightly fey, and completely unique. 

Photo courtesy of
Bing images

She taught me, in subsequent years, that this side of my nature was beautiful and to be celebrated.  I still gaze at magic, and sometimes I'm able to share those moments with my Mom.  She doesn't always see the world in the same starlit glow that I do, but she appreciates this part of who I, her youngest child, am.  I gaze at magic, because I was taught by a lovely woman, my Mom, that this is a beautiful and natural thing.  I hope those who read this post have those special moments as well.  I would wish for you all to have the unique ability to regularly find and regularly enjoy...gazing at magic.

Namaste', and beautiful holiday wishes to you all.

Mystical Roommates

Photo courtesy of
Bing images

I believe in magic.  No, I'm not making that up and I'm not kidding.  I really do believe in magic.  No one can convince me it doesn't exist.  I see it constantly and as a child was always a bit confused as to the why of no one else noticing these same unique moments.  Fortunately, I was born into a family with an amazing, witty, warm hearted Mom who also saw the occasional magical moment.  Humor lives in the overall personality of my large, prolific, Irish Clan of a family, as does an active imagination and a decidedly healthy Story Teller gene.  We all have it, some more than others.  Perhaps that Story Teller gene is responsible for some of us recognizing magic here and there.  For whatever reason, I received an especially strong application of that genetic tendency.

I joke often with friends about House Elf activity.  I'm sure you've either heard of it, or you've experienced it.  You know....your car keys mysteriously disappear and are eventually discovered in some absolutely bizarre, unexpected location that you swear up and down you were not responsible for.  Socks disappear in the dryer on a regular basis.  Pretty, shiny things like rings, watches, earrings and cell phones, or important things like wallets also unexpectedly disappear for weeks at a time, only to surface, out of the blue right slap in the middle of the living room carpet that you just finished vacuuming earlier the same day.  No way on Earth could the jewelry items have escaped the relentless suction and rotating rollers of the vacuum. 

How, then, do they suddenly materialize in the very middle of the freshly cleaned carpet?  If this sounds like first hand experience to you, you have a good eye...it is my firsthand experience and yes, that has happened to me, jewelry, vaccuum and all, quite recently. What causes this?  I have an answer for you.  It's Elf Activity.  Again, no, I'm not kidding.  You don't see any exclamation point on the "not kidding" part because I'm serious!  Okay, that last did require an exclamation point, just for a little extra emphasis, but I'm still not kidding.

This has happened to me throughout my life, the mysterious disappearing items, quite often of the shiny, sparkly variety and then the equally mysterious reappearance of those items in unlikely locations.  I suspect it is the Wee Folk.  Do I feel this to be true because I'm of predominantly Irish descent?  It might be a factor.  There is also Native American Indian heritage, Cherokee, in my family tree.  Those are two very strong, mystical races who believe(d) in the natural cycles of Mother Earth, respect(ed) the Four Elements of Earth, Fire, Water and Air, and also believe(d) in the presence of magical beings.  The Irish call them the Wee Folk.  "The Cherokee call them Nunne hi (forgive me for not being able to place the proper diacritic pronunciation marks on that word - blogspot word processing tools do not accommodate that at this time), or the 'immortals', and believed they lived near running water sources"...springs, waterfalls, rivers and lakes. (The Folklore of Faeries, Gary R. Varner, AuthorsDen)

I live in East Tennessee, which is graced with endless fresh, fast running water sources.  Much of the geological makeup of this area is sandstone and limestone, which not only provide a purification process for water as it trickles through the sediment and layers of the aquifers, but also harbor quartz rock crystal.  Quartz crystal, my friends, is a conductor of energy.  It is scientifically proven to have a measurable electrical signal of very precise frequency (Wikipedia), which is why it is commonly used to regulate clocks and wristwatches. 

Can you tell I've given this topic a lot of thought?  Why did the Native Americans believe that the Nunne hi inhabited the land surrounding fast running, fresh water sources?  Why did the subsequent Irish immigrants who came and settled this area also believe that the Wee Folk were in evidence here?  Could it be possible that back then, when there were no machines to mask sounds or deaden our natural senses, that Native Man and other races who respected the Old Ways might have been more in tune with the cycles of Nature than we are able to achieve today?  Could it be that the surrounding geological makeup of certain regions provide(d) a frequency that, perhaps, thinned the doorway between dimensions and allowed those with certain sensitivity to "see" these beings?  In olden days, this ability was called having "The Sight" in the Smoky Mountains and in the Old Country - in this case, Ireland.

These are just my own ruminations on the topic.  I can't prove any of it, but I do see some connecting points in my theory and in many of the ones I have researched over the years.  I know that I have regularly experienced those odd moments of personal items disappearing and reappearing that convince me there is more afoot than my modern age eyes and senses can quite grasp.  So, in my own unique way, I choose to be open to the possibility that the Wee Folk exist.  When something disappears in my home, I've learned to be patient, maybe have a lighthearted conversation or two with the Invisible Ones who may be using that item for a bit, and eventually it will reappear in one of those random, unlikely locations.  The occurrences are so extremely odd that it tickles my sense of humor to no end. 

Photo courtesy of
Bing images

When I lived in a different apartment about 6 years ago, I had a platinum ring that I wore daily.  One afternoon I took it off, as I did nightly, and placed it in the little crystal bowl that held the few pieces of jewelry I wear daily.  That crystal bowl was in my bedroom, on an antique buffet that doubled as a chest of drawers. The next morning that particular platinum ring was missing.  I looked high and low, scoured the area around the chest where the crystal bowl sat, retraced my steps, searched the clothes I had worn the prior day, even searched my car and the walkway leading to my front door.  The ring was nowhere to be found.    

I acceded to my invisible roommates and stopped searching for the ring, letting them know they were welcome to wear it, admire it, play with it, do whatever they liked and that I looked forward to having it returned when they were finished with it.  You may be reading this and thinking that I am a bit more than eccentric.  If so, that's okay.  You probably have some habits that I would find curious and that you'd probably not be so bold as to write about in public forum; that's what makes us all unique and beautiful.

Getting back to my story about this platinum ring, when I began packing to move from that particular apartment, one afternoon I moved a bar stool from a corner where it had been placed and not moved since the day I moved into that unit.  I had never sat in that bar stool, had never placed anything there, nor had anyone else.  It occupied an awkward spot in the dining room that made it impossible to sit comfortably, so that bar stool just filled that corner, untouched and unmoved.  That day I pulled it out and sneezed from the resulting cloud of dust (okay, I said it sat there, untouched & unmoved...I'm not that vigilant about dusting unused furniture).  I lifted the stool to carry it to another spot and saw a sparkle on the cushion. 

You guessed it....right slap in the center of the bar stool seat cushion was my long lost platinum ring.  Remember, please, that I said that barstool was placed in that awkward spot the day I moved into that apartment and then wasn't shifted a single inch until 2 years later when I was preparing to move - there was no logical explanation for how that ring could have found its way to that spot on its own.  I know I didn't place it there.  In fact, the day I moved into that apartment, I had yet to purchase that platinum ring so it couldn't have been misplaced there during the moving in process. 

This little scenario has played itself out over and over throughout my lifetime with various shiny, sparkly items.  I can only surmise that the Wee Folk who now have drifted into our personal living space become bored within the confines of an apartment environment and seek to entertain themselves with something pretty.  I have rarely "lost" something of this nature permanently.  Indeed, I find that as long as I acknowledge the item is merely being borrowed and graciously encourage the enjoyment of the borrowing, the item generally reappears fairly soon.  The entertaining, often delightful part of the process is the humor that is employed in the reappearance of these items.  They're crafty, the Wee Folk, with how they return things, choosing the most intriguing, exasperating and unexpected moments and locations to drop the item back into my dimension. 

Because I see this as a strong possibility and because I firmly believe in the existence and truth of other mystical beings and magical occurrences, I find that I exude a lightness of Spirit that is attractive to others.  Perhaps they recognize the simple joy that springs from embracing concepts that we most often abandon with childhood years.  Possibly they appreciate that I am willfully, unabashedly and without shame, declaring that magic does exist.  It is certainly a bold statement to make and many will read this and shake their heads in dismay that I, a serious writer, would choose to embrace such concepts, not to mention write about them in public forum. 

I have to throw my two cents in here and tell you that yes, I am a serious writer, but that serious respect for my craft does not prohibit me from expressing, in writing, the beauty that I see in the possibility of magic still existing.  In fact, I feel it demands that I write certain truths, be they delightful, mystical and magical, or more prosaic, occasionally uncomfortable topics such as grief management, or droll ones such as the refusal to follow accepted rules of writing.  My writing style changes with my moods and today, I felt like giving voice to my mystical, spiritual, Story Teller side.

In the forgotten mists of time, we were a different people.  We moved with the seasons, respected the land, embraced the cycles of Nature and, I believe, had much clearer vision to see the realms and dimensions that we are now, sadly, nearly blind and numb to.  A few of us, however, retain some small divining spark that allows us to still sense tiny indications of magic.  Some of us notice what others claim as common forgetfulness and/or being careless with possessions to actually be the proof that mystical beings and magic are still afoot. 

This topic was prompted by a recent conversation with a girlfriend in social media format that gave me "fizzies" (happy, warm, bubbly inside-ness) in abundance, as we went on a virtual visit of the Emerald City and took a detour to an enchanted dragon cave.  It was a delightful bit of whimsy designed to lift this friend's spirits as she approaches a small hurdle along her Life Path, but it also was a conscious, intentional nod from my inner Spirit to hers, recognizing that yes, magic does exist, still, in both of us.  In that moment, merely having that lovely conversation carried the spark of magic strongly enough to make us both smile, not just that evening, but in my case, well into the following day.  This topic was also prompted by another friend, this time male, who is forever being visited and teased by his particular troop of House Elves - they like his keys, his cell phone, and most recently, his wallet.  This friend recognizes the enchanted part of my Spirit and allows me to speak freely of magic and mystical possibilities.  The two occurrences, with both friends, spaced so closely together in time, nudged me just enough to sit down and tap out these words.

Photo courtesy of
Bing images

Magic, these days, is an elusive element.  It slips teasingly just beyond our fingertips, most often eluding our grasp, wafting lazily beyond reach to lure us forward, to continue searching...to continue dreaming...to continue BELIEVING.  I do not feel the beliefs I espouse here in this blog article are in direct contradiction of my faith in God/Universe/Spirit.  I believe that magic and mystical beings are an intrinsic part of the makeup of this beautiful Earth that houses us all, and that all of these things that are seen and not seen with human eyes are all Divinely created.  Magic, and mystical things, therefore, although elusive, are all around us, waiting for us to consciously, willfully, joyfully, simply believe.  That is when they sparkle most brightly, you know, and when they just might pay you a visit and borrow something pretty.  If you welcome that magic and that touch of the mystical with a smile and an open heart, you just might find yourself engaging in sometimes comical, occasionally exasperating, often delightful treasure hunts.  The purpose of having mystical roommates these days, I believe, is simply another friendly reminder to us that, just maybe...magic is afoot. 

Simply believe...and be joyous!