Where do you look for magic?

And where do you find it?

The bumblebee who needed my helping hand in his hour of need

There is a moment, very early in the morning, just before the sun comes up, when the light takes on a surreal quality that pulls reality just slightly left of center. 

I was pretty young when this not-quite-light/not-quite-dark created an illusion that still brings me a sense of childlike wonder when I think back on it.

I often witnessed the sunrise through my east-facing bedroom windows because I was a natural-born morning person, usually waking well before my radio alarm clock clicked on and tuned into  WBZ AM radio’s Maynard in the Morning show. 

On this particular morning, I was still curled up cozily under my comforter — awake, but not yet willing to leave my warm nest. While I worked my way up to putting my feet on the floor, I stared absentmindedly at the row of Breyer horse figurines lined up on the bookcase at the foot of my bed. 

That was when I swore I saw Beauty — a nine-inch tall, dapple-gray Arabian mare — flick a perfect ear, and dip her head as if in greeting. 

Even though I was just a kid, I knew there was no way a plastic toy was actually moving. But some part of me really, really wanted to believe that something was bringing my beloved horses to life.

That was the kind of magic I looked for as a kid. I wanted six impossible things before breakfast. I wanted wardrobes with secret doors, unicorns in the woods, and faeries granting boons. I wanted the ability to talk to the animals, to fly with the birds, and to become invisible. I wanted to discover that I was a lost princess from another kingdom, or maybe that I had the ability to cast spells. I cannot even tell you how many times I tried to move an object with my mind. 

Back in those days, my idea of magic was rooted in the otherworldly, the fantastical, and the extraordinary. It usually had to do with being special, unique — the chosen one. Like so many kids before me, I wished for magical powers and allies to protect and empower me. 

Sadly, I never did meet a dragon or stumble upon a witch’s cottage in the forest, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t find magic.

I know it doesn’t always feel like it, but the world is full of magic. You just need to know how to look for it.

These days, I find magic in all kinds of everyday places. A good book can transport me to another world more effectively than a secret portal. A favorite song can transform my mood faster than a happiness spell. A beautiful piece of artwork can enchant me as thoroughly as a faerie glamour.

Most of the time, though, I find magic in serendipity, synchronicity, and connection. 

To be honest, I sometimes confuse the meanings of serendipity and synchronicity, but I love the way they sound together. (I think they would make excellent alternative names for Odin’s ravens.)

The Oxford English Dictionary defines serendipity as, “making happy and unexpected discoveries by accident,” and synchronicity as, “the phenomenon of events which coincide in time and appear meaningfully related” (even though there isn’t anything to connect said events).

Both words give me a sense of accidentally being in the right place at the right time to make an unexpected but delightful connection with someone or something that you would otherwise have missed. Each time I have one of these magical encounters, it feels like the Universe is winking at me or maybe sharing a private joke. 

Sometimes, the wink comes in a very mundane but practical package — a stretch of green lights and the perfect parking space when I’m running late. 

Sometimes, it’s hearing a song with lyrics that answer a question I’d only asked in my heart. 

Sometimes, it’s coming across the same idea or theme multiple times in one day, like a neon sign flashing at me and saying, “Pay attention!” 

Sometimes it’s a cheeky tarot deck serving me cards that feel like a gently sarcastic kick in the ass.

Often, I find magic in my encounters with the natural world. Like when an autumn wind stirs colorful leaves in a miniature cyclone at my feet. Or when the local murder of crows comes to my yard and asks politely for peanuts by quietly cooing from their perches high in the trees. Or when I look out the car window to see a sharp sliver of a moon hanging bright and clear in a sunset sky glowing with deep oranges and pinks. 

Or like the other day when I was out walking a dog, and just happened to notice a fuzzy bumblebee sitting on the asphalt at the edge of the road. It seemed a strange place for a bee to rest, and I worried that the little fella might get run over by a car, so I knelt down to assess the situation. The bee was clearly on his last legs. His wings vibrated, but he couldn’t get into the air. 

I placed a fallen leaf on the ground near the bee’s head, and he immediately clambered aboard. It was almost as if he knew I was trying to help. Still holding the leash of a now very confused pup in one hand, I balanced the leaf in my other hand as I walked a little way up the street to place the bee — leaf and all — in a flowering plant that would be a much more fitting resting place than under someone’s tire. 

My interaction with the bee didn’t change the outcome of his story, but it still felt like magic. Connecting with the wild world, even in a seemingly inconsequential way, always feels meaningful. I was in the right place at the right time to offer this tiny creature a small kindness, and that felt like a great honor. 

To experience magic, you have to surrender to it. Magic is not about knowing or controlling. It’s about letting go. It’s about believing. It’s about slipping into the cosmic flow where you are connected to and in harmony with everything else. Magic invites you to step outside yourself and outside the normal realm of possibility into a reality that is much bigger and stranger and more beautiful than you ever imagined.

Where do you look for magic, and where do you find it?