The Ordinary Magic Of Being Alive. Inside Our Happy Home of Anam Cara.

It was one of those rainy nights in which the fireplace flickered across the carpet. Bellies were satisfied with delicious morsels of fish seasoned with avocado oil, dill and lemon, and mashed potatoes perfected to creamy swirls of satisfaction. The window was washed with droplets of sacred water. Instead of creating rainbows of sunlight, the light catchers dripping from the window casings reflected murky gray. Outside the panes, the Gothic arch opening in the front wall framed the muted green tones of the outer world. Gnarled branches grew over the frame and two trees stood guard on either side of the arch, roots twisted and deep. 

It was in this environment that I found myself thinking upon time and other such importances, and I realized, with urgency, that I needed to paint my door a deep purple...I have been begging for a purpley red door since I realized black would be too hot on our south facing home, but I finally convinced my husband that it was meant to be. And then I laughed when I looked up the significance of a purple door (I believe that my best life is lived when I see the connections and significance in all things) and found out that a purple door means "a Witch lives here." We will still be painting our entrance a burgundy purple.

On a night that sings softly of Autumn I feel the magic of being alive. Sometimes living is bone weary exhausting, but on soft nights with spilled lamplight, nurturing food and beautiful surroundings it would seem that the abundance of simply breathing can sometimes beget the simplest magic. Sometimes being alive is at it's most profound in the mellow beauty of meetings. Where nature and materially crafted collide in a fusion of elegant, inspirational beauty. The moment was too tender not to share.

Our home is named Anam Cara, taken from one of our favourite books in our twenties. "You are joined in an ancient and eternal union with humanity that cuts across all barriers of time, convention, philosophy and definition. When you are blessed with Anam Cara, the Irish believe, you have arrived at that most sacred place: home."- John O Donnohue. It is to awaken the awareness of your own light nature and accept this in oneself, in order to appreciate the beauty in others.

Anam Cara reflected warmth and healing contrasted by the drizzle of sorrowful rains. This home seems to be at it's most magical when the outer world is cold, dark or drained of colour. Inside the door, the warm hues of purples, oranges, browns, reds, greens, and yellows meld together in an infusion of inspiration and comfort. It's a haven for the travel weary...usually those souls who may not go anywhere but need respite from the bitter truths of survival.

As the skies darkened, the crystals in the window began to sparkle subtly. They were slightly swaying reflections of the light around the room contrasting against the black of night. The Gothic arch was almost encased in black if it wasn't for the solar lights nestling on it's corners. The teary rain turned into a light torrent that was pounding into puddles and splashes could be heard on the sidewalk outside. The ancient dance of hearth and environment engaging provided a soothing backdrop to pondering and musings.

My soul sang murmured agreements. Soft whispered sighs of, "Yes this is what it is, in the best of moments, to be alive." My children were laughing in their rooms, the sounds echoing off the walls and carrying to my sitting place, kissing me with muffled joy. My husband was comfortably sprawled over the couch across from me, reading his book, his mind traversing through time, lost in the celtic world of North Umbria circa 890. I could feel the magic of transportation humming from his aura. Looking up from my screen, my gaze raked his stocky form, happy that a man so strong and able was nestled next to me, restoring himself for the next day's labour. Back to my computer, the modernity comfortably mixed with the ancient. It wasn't jarring. It was simple. Instead of parchment and ink, I was drumming my fingers on a lighted machine, but the same feelings of old were coming out into the world through a medium.

Sometimes, in the hustle of life, I forget that savouring and taking notice of what I have, opening myself up to the ordinary pleasures of BEING, are within my grasp most of the time. Time is the most treasured possession I have and too often I forget to pay attention to what is within my time frame. To appreciate and take stock of all that is abundant, good and right. Sometimes, Anam Cara has a way of bringing this home to my soul more than any other place can. Rightfully so. And sometimes I need certain conditions of nature to force my recognition. My husband and I are creatures of Autumn. We become our best selves in the season of decay. I am not sure why this is, but I embrace the tastes of Autumn days during the year that allude to the Season.

Occasionally, I forget, even though my personality is a contrasting paradox, that the world can be at it's most beautiful in contrasting dualities. I forget to take notice and accept the polarities. The comforting contrasts can be jarring or they can be welcoming. The difference or range of which one experiences jarring or welcoming, is in a feeling of safety to explore the differences, the beauty to encompass, and the ability to change perspective.

The soft light of my screen is enhanced by the golden glow of a lamp casting it's warmth on our coffee machine in the next room. I can almost smell the brewed aroma of morning. The gentle clickety clack of my fast fingers across the keyboard are off rhythm to the rain swishing across the roof and trickling down the panes of glass beside me. Both are beauty. Both can bring life and both can destroy life if taken to their extremes.

Now, I shall go outside into the deluge and be in wonder. Restored and renewed, drenched in rain water, witnessing the growth of the earth and the shimmer of trees. May your ordinary magic be experienced tonight or tomorrow or maybe in one of your Todays.

Song Choice: After I wrote this the lyrics of Across the Universe popped into my mind, "Words are flowing out like endless rain into a paper cup

They slither while they pass, they slip away across the universe
Pools of sorrow waves of joy are drifting through my opened mind
Possessing and caressing me"- The Beatles