The Magic of Scattered Trinkets

The little moments warm the cockles of my heart. I am ready for epic journeys, experiences. When brief exchanges are packed with a world of love and sincerity, they don’t seem so little anymore. I feel as though the security code to the gates of heaven were just handed to me. Me, another member of the organic whole called humanity…now empowered by a special pass. It affirms what I have been feeling all along. An intrinsic love for all humanity: I know then in that powerful instant that it is what we all magically nurture in our soul, ardently cherish in our solitude, and yet painstakingly censor so the dynamics of life may continue unabated.

It is rarely ever one single item of interest, one point of significance or one experience or story of substance that captures my sentiment forever. Rather I search for the profound hidden in the mundane, because representation seems to me the name of the exchange we call “life”. I look around me and see people trying to always represent something; a gesture stands for something; an object represents something; relationships represent something; jobs represent something; education represents something; our perceptions represent something. Our bodies represent our soul. In that artful dialog of representation just how much are we willing to share, and forever touch another being?

All the exchanges and barter of love we carry on are significant because they represent a meaning to us. Never mind, each of us will tweak that meaning some and relish the freedom to put our own spin on the magic of brief moments. Some of us may even go so far as to downsize that magic to an ordinary equation of supply and demand. In fact I think all human connections suffer a little for that carefree or careless freedom we exercise: how we define another’s profound moment using our own limited purview and dust the world with that “Truth”.

Scarily enough, these meanings seem to come with statutes and preconditions. Are we to sign off on the invisible fine print to tacitly agree to care for another, support another? Are these meanings then binding obligations we must abide by? Where is the Magic in that? What do I get to cherish at the end of it all? Is there an end? Questions often asked but fortunately can be smiled off with an answer. The more spontaneous and the trifle contractual of us will jolt those cold questions so warm, soft, fluffy answers might gently bounce out: we just might try to accept, love, care, or do anything unconditionally. Exchanging does not have to mean bartering; caring does not have to mean befriending; supporting does not mean meddling; feeling is not intruding. We can help a complete stranger because we are human. Daily we wake up with a choice: the choice to connect unconditionally with a fellow being or creature not because there is meaning to be made to lift us up. But because we are all connected by the human chain subtly, yet strongly. That choice is my magic, our magic to be cherished forever.