How Fairy Tales Could Come True Even In The Wicked Messes.

My daughter’s fairy garden in the front yard is mesmerizing. The tiny koi pond, quaint moss-covered cottages, miniature windmills and mushrooms, and the winding gemstone path make me wish I were small enough to squeeze through one of the arched front doors and settle in for a sweet cup of Rainbow Sherbet Tea (I’m sure it’s what they serve!) with a sprightly fairy.

My husband and I sometimes talk about how our town feels like a life-sized fairy garden.

We have access to a network of gravel trails curving through woodlands and transporting us across busy streets as if by magic. Teentsy trickling streams flow alongside the paths in our neighborhood, captivating every passerby. We cross bridges and encounter families of grazing deer when we wander down to the park.

It doesn’t quite compare with the cobblestone streets, ancient architecture, and whimsical markets of Europe, but it satisfies the same desire in me to create a life where adventure and cozy vibes collide, and I step into my own dazzling fairytale.

Rather than the pursuit of money or success, I’m fueled by the energy of imagination and excitement.

Instead of time-blocking my life to a T, my to-dos turn into Treasure Hunt, with questions and curiosity as my guides.

I want to visualize my usual daily patterns as creative potions for well-being.

And add more sprinkles on my cereal, marshmallows in my tea, and rainbows on my dinner plate.

I want to imagine all my boring rituals like running, washing my face, brushing my teeth, grocery shopping, library visits, and daily bike rides packed with healing properties. When I partake of these potent elixirs I become attuned to the energy of another realm where life feels simple, charming.

Furthermore, I want to walk through my days with new eyes.

Bustling city streets are gemstone paths leading me back to my home sweet home.

Obnoxious, bright lights are actually dangling lanterns.

Tangled weeds aren’t irritations but safe havens for wee ladybugs and leprechauns.

Every intrusive cement structure jutting towards the sky is an artistic masterpiece.

All my words translate to spells and create worlds of abundance and miracles.

And from dreary rain clouds fall droplets of liquid vitality – open your mouth, drink it in, let it land softly on your skin, and feel your soul restored.

I want my dreams to fit in fairyland too.

I remember the day I felt ashamed of my unpretentious ambitions. I was in college, sitting cross-legged in a circle of other feisty young women ready to save the world. When it was my turn to answer the question, what are your dreams, I felt the blood rush to my cheeks. My response came at the tail end of a long line of earth-shaking aspirations.

How could I compete?

Looking back, I would venture to say this was a pivotal moment in the trajectory of my life. I decided I didn’t care to compete for who had the shiniest purpose.

I wanted my life to feel simple, steeped in wonder, and marked with the mystical…and the only way I knew how to do this was…

to just love everyone.

So I blurted it out. Smiled shyly. I hoped no one would ask me to explain further and the conversation would continue right along.

I never forgot the day I declared my awkward intention. Unhooking our lives and our dreams from a heavy set of specified expectations doesn’t seem to blend very well with the American, super-sizey culture.

But this captivating fairy garden compels me to come closer to the earth, literally and figuratively, I have to bend down into the dirt to gain proper perspective. I’m reminded once again…

I don’t care to save the world, run a 7-figure business, become a famous, well-respected guru who spreads her teaching to the masses, or trade stocks, acquire luxury investment properties, and wear expensive pantsuits.

My whole being pumps with enthusiastic vitality when I shrink down into the present.

My problems and global anarchy drift skyward and I kneel in a land of glittering possibility and glowing colors. The earth sings in chirpy tunes and vibrates with spirit. There is nowhere else to be but here, sipping tea with a sprightly fairy on this Thursday afternoon.

I might give my finger to fairytale romance but only because this kind of existence feels utterly absurd amid the wicked messes we make when we’re seeking immediate answers and easy formulas to escape our reality.

However, if I remember my 20-year-old self, and seep into the smallness of my “love dream,” I see fairytales come true every day.

With love as my lens, my sole aspiration, this hyper, frenzied world is downsized to a real-life fairy garden.

We’re all connected, a tiny village of friends. Daily drudgery yields delightful surprises! Mundane routines become my magical potions! Even our most complex romantic relationships drip with possibility.

Suddenly, I can see enchantment is accessible to each of us, no matter what city we call home or what circumstances are sucking us dry. When we come down, down to the level of children and gnomes and nymphs, we step through the portal of love, and fairytales abound.

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