A magical place is where something extraordinary and incredible happens that makes you look at the world in a different way. Magical places can be inspiring, life changing, comforting or all of the above. For me, one of my favorite magical places is the baseball field beside the parking lot at my school. One crisp fall day in 2009, I pulled my car into the parking lot and the most amazing sight lay right before my eyes-- sunlight streaming in through the tree branches. As one of my friends commented, "It was raining sun!"
Excitedly, I ran into the school building to borrow a camera from my friend, Grace. I couldn't wait to capture these incredible images on film. And that's when my love of nature photography was born. Beautiful scenes, click of a camera, upload to a computer, share pictures with friends-- I'm sold!
Not even a month later, another breathtaking scene lay before me as I pulled my car up to the same parking lot. The lighting, the clouds, the patterns-- Wow!
Fast forward to around this time last year-- March 10, 2010. 22 years ago to that day, my dad had passed away in a car accident. That morning, before school, although I had a to-do list a mile long, I did not feel compelled to do any of it. I had a feeling that if I went to the magical field, something special would happen. And indeed it did.
Armed with my digital camera, I stood in them middle of the magical field waiting for a spectacular scene to unfold. Although I did take a few pretty good shots, that's not where the magic happened. It happened after I stopped taking pictures.
Standing still in the middle of the magical field, a stillness, a calm, came over me. I became highly attuned to the sounds (the soft rustling of the leaves), the sights (the color of the leaves and the morning sunlight peaking through the branches). And then I heard it...a voice inside of me...my dad speaking to me.
Walking back into the school building, I was inspired. A poem just seemed to pour out from me as I sat at the wooden bench seat, at a window that overlooks the river flowing behind my school.
Morning Whisper
Dad spoke to me this morning
Not in a loud booming voice
but in a quiet, steady whisper
"I am here."
Amidst frost-tinged grass
Piercing cold air penetrating my fingertips, my lungs
Shadows cast across the field by trees
"I am here."
In the calls of the morning birds
The sliver moon waving from between tree branches
Morning sunlight streaming from brilliant blue sky
"I am here."
Standing real still
Crunchy, frozen leaves underfoot
I breathe in dad's voice
As he speaks to me.
The poem was very comforting to me and much more important than the other things on my to-do list that morning, which I have long since forgotten. Even now, writing about this almost a year later, the poem comforts me as the 23rd anniversary of my dad's death approaches. This field has convinced me of the importance of allowing ourselves to be open to the power of magical places.
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To the readers of my blog: I would love to hear about one of your magical places and why it is magical for you. If you feel inspired, please leave a comment.
