Some days it’s easy to believe in your own magic. Its feels as if you speak into existence everything from great hair, good food, to perfect timing, and no traffic all in the same day. Perfect. Magical. The other side of the coin holds the days that feel like quicksand of negativity. Catching all the red lights on your way to an appointment you’re already late for. Burning dinner, or forgetting to take the frozen chicken out. When there are no matching socks in my child’s sock drawer. My hair is a mess and I don’t match. You feel defeated before you arrive. Your vibe has fallen and it can’t get up. It’s easy to doubt your magic in these particular instances. Place on top of it all the pressure of motherhood, full time job, cleaning, and that last load of laundry, the 24 hours in the day wither away like a flower. It could make the most magical of us throw in the towel.
After reflection of such day, I realize the magic of my bad days. They teach me to listen, taking my time with the task at hand. The bad days teach me to just breathe through it. I have to breathe anyway, so why not make it big and intentional? With each grand breath (my magic number is fifteen) I begin to rise from the dust with just enough to see the grace in my day. I pull myself together and get through dinner, get through bath time, get through grading and homework. I start see the magic of the day was the consistent duty of getting through. The day’s saving grace refused to let me down I made it! I reflected on how I felt more like a dud, a donkey rather than a unicorn, I realized there was a demand of love, which was received. A demand for me to love myself as I am in this moment.