I used to think technology was magic. Now I am not so sure. I feel nourished when I receive a thoughtful text from a friend but hamstrung when I catch a glimpse of the news.

On the other hand, every art can be twisted, every power mishandled. Perhaps the problem is not the tech but what we’ve decided to use it for.

We lament losing the innocence of childhood. But what we’re usually talking about is the ability to explore and be awed by what we discover.

Getting curious is something we can practice at any age. When you get excited about something you are learning, you will feel and appear young.

There is something about falling snow. It is so slow, so soft, filling what usually looks empty.

Of course, the sky is never empty. Neither is the cup. Every vessel is always full of atmosphere, full of light, full of wavelengths we cannot perceive. Falling snow makes a sound. It’s one of many things we cannot hear.

A house plant is an excellent source of daily magic. Some are more active than others, but they all move. They move by growing. But they move in subtler ways too. Our false shamrock (a gift from a friend) opens and closes every leaf each day.

How? A plant has no sinew, no central nervous system. And yet they never hold still. They lean and bend, always yearning towards the light.

Get one. Watch. You’ll see.

There is magic everywhere. A heartbeat. A flower. A bird arcing across the sky. We have explanations for these things that rob them of mysticism.

We forget that nobody knows why a heart starts beating, how a flowers knows to bloom, or where a bird finds the courage to take wing.

Sunlight is magic. Step into it and close your eyes. Pay attention to your skin, your heartbeat, your breath. What charges do you feel? What redirects inside you because of that gentle touch?

Think of what would not exist without the sun. Plants that produce air you can breathe. You. Life itself. All because of light. Who can think of this and not feel enchanted?

Stop every time you think “I want…” Change the thought to,” I have…” instead. Think of something or someone that nourishes you, supports you, or makes you feel well.

This is a magic spell. It will make you fall in love with your life.

“We have scrubbed the world free of magic.” Alan Watts wrote this in the 60s. It has never felt more true. We ignore the mysterious and focus on what can be tested and verified, as if doing this will make life more stable and predictable.

But nothing has ever been stable or predictable, and everything that truly matters cannot be explained. That’s where the magic is still hiding. What we can’t understand, we can experience. Whether to receive the unknown with wonder or with fear is up to us.

Every day is a parade of moments. Some of these are received with anticipation, others with dread. It is easy for me to want to curate my moments, to welcome some and turn others away.

But unwanted moments arrive no matter how much I wish they would not. And anticipated moments pass no matter how I might ache for them to linger. I am working on learning to welcome each moment with love rather than judgement or aversion. Because every moment holds an experience. And every experience can be appreciated for what it is rather than despised for what it cannot be.

Love is action. I used to get this wrong. We tend to talk about love as a feeling, as if a feeling alone entitles us to certain consideration. Too often, this leads to love looking more like a need for validation through control than a pledge to support.

Abuse masquerading as love is powerful. It says, “I love you. If you love me too, you will do these things to prove it, even if they cause you harm.”

Active love is the opposite. It says, “I love you. If you love me too, let’s find ways to support each other that don’t cause either of us any harm.”