I used to drive past the road where my boyfriend had a house. I would stare down that road anytime I drove past, wondering who lived there and where the road lead. It was magnetic. He and I met about 10 years later. Now I drive down that road from time to time, to run errands to the renters at his old house.
That curious hook has drawn me into strange parts of a building and wind up in coversation with new people. It’s lead me to turn the wrong direction on the road and show up late. It’s put me in the middle of an argument, taken me away from powerful people, drawn me to befriend sick people. It’s made me a lot of friends.
If I close my eyes, it feels like mild warmth, like the heat of sunrise. There is a clear brightness in it that I can’t see.
It’s easier to swat than a gnat, easier to ignore than a cloud. I frustrate myself quite a bit when I do that. I guess it’s called “intuition” by some. I call it magic.
If I listen to it consistently, it brings peace and beauty. Even knowing this, I lose my patience and turn away. Grasping for it is like trying to pinch smoke.
I have no conclusion here, just a curious wonder for this strange, unsophisticated magic.