Peach Pits, Magic Acts, and What Will Thrill You
I saw them this week, all lined up just waiting. Five dried peach pits, riddled with crevices and cracks, laying flat on the soil awash in potential and wonder.
|Photo: Christopher Bowns, Creative Commons cc license
Daniel puts them there, this sweet little towheaded blonde six and a half year old. Since learning of gardening and plants, he now saves the seeds from any fruit he loves and plants them in my houseplants. Five dried peach pits line the surface of my indoor banana plant now.
His wonder and magic float even farther, though.
My dad was here a few weeks ago, using slight-of-hand to vanish nickels in an old fashioned linen handkerchief and magically pound spice jars through my dining room table. Daniel was entranced and reached his own hands up to test behind his ears and behind Grandpa’s ears too for the missing coins. And my heart caught with delight to see my son’s wonder and belief. Belief that anything was possible, and that coins could indeed materialize from behind ears and spice jars from within tables.
I slipped away this morning, just me and my smooth-rolling gel pen and other writing materials, intent on this summer’s writing project. In a local Caribou Coffee, I laid out my pens and notebooks, sipped hot fresh coffee, and started scratching ink across page.
|Photo: Frederik Rubensson, Creative Commons cc license
I have been reading dozens of books on writing and am convinced that the process and discipline of learning from others, of showing up to do the work, and of continued learning and revising can bring magical results. And so this morning at a sunny coffee-shop table, I warmed up, stared off into space for a while, marshaling my thoughts; and then, with grace-filled expectations for myself, I scribbled word after word, lining them up. Words, sentences, and scrawled near-unintelligible pages coiled side by side in spiral binding. My hand cramped, and I stopped for a chocolate croissant before jumping into another timed session of writing.
I believe in wonder. I believe in lining up the creviced peach pits, lining up for work with the tools ready, and jumping in. I don’t know what passions or hobbies or goals you have waiting for you, but I understand the demands, the delays, the distractions.
You can do this. Show up. Do the work. And the wonder and magic will float through.
Line by line, awash in excitement; peach pit by creviced peach pit.