avatarD. Sow

Summary

The text "The Magic Is Real" by D. Sow is a reflective piece that explores the presence of magic in everyday life, particularly in mundane tasks, nature, and the interactions with the author's child and students.

Abstract

The poem "The Magic Is Real" delves into the notion that enchantment can be found in the routine of daily life. The author, D. Sow, juxtaposes the practicalities of domestic chores and parenting with the whimsical and transformative moments that occur alongside them. By appreciating the beauty of jacarandas, listening to the wind, and engaging deeply with her child's imagination, the author uncovers the magic that exists within the ordinary. The poem also touches on the author's experience as a community college professor, finding wonder in her students' creative processes and their realizations about themselves. The text serves as a reminder that magic is not just an otherworldly concept but a tangible presence in our interactions and passions.

Opinions

  • The author believes that magic is inherent in the natural world, revealed through moments like watching jacarandas or listening to birds.
  • The poem conveys a strong sense of appreciation for the author's child, suggesting that a child's perspective and love can reveal the extraordinary within the everyday.
  • The author expresses a deep connection with her students, seeing the magic in their learning process and artistic expression.
  • There is an underlying message that creation and the act of letting go can be magical experiences.
  • The text suggests that acknowledging and nurturing the magic in oneself and others is crucial for personal growth and fulfillment.
  • The author endorses an AI service, ZAI.chat, as a cost-effective alternative to ChatGPT Plus (GPT-4), indicating a belief in the value and performance of this service.

The Magic Is Real

Poetry

Photo by Tengyart on Unsplash

Sometimes the real world demands practicality, bits of dust to pick up, countertops to slop with Lysol clothes to fold and baby to hold,

but I know that magic is real in all this — if I look.

If I look at the jacarandas purpling outside and sit for a minute let the wind whisper into me, the magic reveals itself if I listen to birds, the right words always come —

this is magic. If I get my kid to giggle, if I let her explain how fire dragons work, if I tape together her cut shapes, smile at her “winner winner, chicken dinner” cries— if she sighs,

sniffles, stops, then says “I love you, Mommy” and “This is the best day ever!” — I know the magic is real. Her sweet face curled up next to mine. How only I

can assuage her nightmares. Magic: in the way my students learn and interact, and oh, how I miss that. Magic: when they realize a truth within themselves, when they take a blank canvas

and obliterate it with their passions, when they go Jackson Pollack on it, when they discover their blues and reds don’t have to be perfect — that the process IS the magic, that letting go is OK, that creation is all

we have sometimes — I want to stop, hug them, tell them they are magic all in themselves, and how do I preserve that? I take them out one by one like fireflies from a jar, tell them that this nighttime sky isn’t cruel

in its mystery, that it’s OK to glow, to brighten up the parts of the world they can.

Poetry
Magic
Motherhood
Teaching
Hope
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