In Search of the Miraculous

To me, one of the hardest aspects of life was my consistent effort to mask my intense waves of despair and joy with a veneer of normality.

A steady hum of enchantment within the natural world captured my attention, yet it demanded a full emotional exchange.

I remained in perpetual uncertainty if this was real due to a dogmatic and emotionless adult world that seemed blinded by accomplishments, prestige, wealth, and science, and was impermeable to folklore and magic.

I decided to tread on that path for a while — to assimilate, to gain acceptance, to feel sane, to fit into the concept of “normal.” Only for me to realize in my later years that there was nothing normal nor sane about the societal constructs I was acquiring at school and in such a world.

It was obvious that we had forgotten to cherish the enchantment of the morning dew. We had stopped to humbly bow to the earth. Our devotion was towards self. And we were determined to distance ourselves from what was truly calling our souls.

My childlike heart never dissipated. The enchantment never fully faded. The flickering lights surrounding trees, plants, and stones never extinguished. And the overwhelming voices of the omnipresent miracle never stopped beckoning me.