Every so often, from some unknown source, magic fairy dust sprinkles down on me to make the day a Magpie Day. On Magpie Days I flit from one shiny little activity to another, which in itself sounds like one of my favorite days, but there’s more. On Magpie Days, everything is shiny!
I used to think the days happened because I just happened to be at home on a beautiful day, or because I didn’t have a lot of scheduled meetings, or because stayed in my pajamas until noon. My research, however, has proven my theories incorrect. In the interests of science I will confess here that on many days I have stayed home, but found the day tedious. On other days I have had no appointments, yet spent the day in a decidedly inglorious fashion, sorting through mismatched socks and piles of old papers. And experience has shown that spending the day one’s pajamas does not necessarily lead to a state of heightened awareness.
Just yesterday morning I came to realize the futility of trying to predict the likelihood of a Magpie Day. I was preparing to cook some brussels sprouts I had had in the refrigerator for a week. My shins and ankles were sore from having worn, for a special occasion, a pair of black strappy heels the night before. Newspapers and mail were strewn all over the countertop in a way that normally causes me to feel paralyzed with ennui.
Thus far the day was not promising, Yet, as I tossed the brussels sprouts with ghee in the saucepan, a little voice from somewhere urged, “Go get your camera.” With those four magic words, Magpie Day was ON. As I joyfully scurried around the kitchen tending to my brussels sprouts, the detritus spread on the countertops seemed to melt away. ( Actually I cleaned it up.)
Removing the newspapers made me think I really should add some coffee grounds and paper to the soil of my dormant garden. While the sprouts simmered inside, I yanked up weeds to prepare a place to spread my amendments, and right there, among the early weeds was a darling sliver of lettuce. Naturally I had to run in the house and fetch my camera.
Time didn’t actually stop for me, but it seemed to on Magpie Day. What could be more luxurious than feeling an abundance of time in which to be absolutely in each moment? For whatever reason, that is how my day was yesterday. I was inside; I was outside. I was upstairs making plans for my niece’s portrait. I was downstairs writing a letter to my sister. I was getting ready for yoga; I was face timing my daughter. And it was timeless.
The narrative of my day would not matter to anyone else but me. I accomplished nothing fit for my memoirs, but I will remember the peace, the joy, and the process of yesterday for a long time. No, Magpie Days cannot be predicted or planned, only enjoyed and savored. I’m up for that. How about you? Any Magpie Days lately?