Oh, oh it's magic.

I was in the 5th grade.

As usual, I was running late for school. I was a "walker" as opposed to a "buser" and walked the three blocks from my house to Maple Place School each morning. Because I didn't have to meet a bus at any set time, I always took way too long getting ready. (How I could ever take that long when all I really did was down a Carnation instant breakfast and tie my hair back in a ponytail is beyond me).

But this day was no different. And my 5th grade teacher, Mrs. Dell'osso, had already repeatedly warned me about being late to homeroom. She had the patience of a saint but even she was getting annoyed by my creative interpretations of when school actually began. I should also mention that our many-windowed classroom was at the very corner of the building. So if you were walking down the sidewalk right in front of school, everyone could see you--there was no way to sneak being late. More often than not, as I ran (literally ran) down the sidewalk in a futile attempt to beat the first bell of the day, my classmates would be at the window yelling at me to hurry up...get going...shake a leg. (Ok, maybe not 'shake a leg' exactly but you get the picture). Sometimes I made it in time, sliding into my little desk with a relieved smile on my face, still huffing and puffing from my sprint. Other times I didn't and can still remember the red end of Mrs. Dell'osso's marking pen swirling in her grade book as her tongue clucked repeatedly.

Tongue clucks were definitely something you wanted to avoid.

One morning, on my usual walk, it was extremely quiet. There were no other kids around, not even a neighbor watering his lawn. I was just minding my business and heading to school, like any other day. As ordinary as that sounds, something was good about that day--there was some sort of energy in the air that I noticed but couldn't put a name to. As a result, I just felt content. And as I started down the sidewalk right near school, all of a sudden I heard the most unexpected sound.

CLOMP! CLOMP! CLOMP!

I turned around. There, coming right down the street as plain as day was a horse! A big, beautiful horse running free down Shrewsbury Avenue: no saddle, no nothing. I stopped dead in my tracks and just started laughing in disbelief. How could this be happening? How could a horse be running through the town?! I looked around to see if anyone else was seeing what I was seeing--a horse in the middle of the street--and there was still no one around. The whole scene was so out of place and so unexpected, it almost felt imaginary.

Before I knew it, a truck was hot on the horse's tail and a single man in the flatbed in the back was swirling a lasso cowboy-style, readying to slow the horse in its tracks. The other men in the truck were yelling at the horse in an attempt to make it slow down. On the very first try, the man threw the rope and the circle landed right around the horse's neck and tightened. The horse's speed slowed from a gallop to a trot. I have no idea where the horse had been trying to go, but its attempted escape was most definitely over.

There is a racetrack in the center of my town. But it's so quiet and self-contained that if you don't know it's there, you'd probably miss it save for the extra traffic on weekends during the summer. Up until that point, I had lived in my small, sleepy shore town my entire life and I had never seen a horse escape and come right down the road on its own. So overall it was a pretty extraordinary and completely unexpected experience.

When I got to my class, I was positive someone must have seen the whole exciting incident from the big windows in our room. I mean there was a HORSE in the STREET. No such luck. Even more so, no one really believed me when I told what had happened. I think even my teacher thought I was telling tales to avoid being marked late. I mean, would YOU believe an eleven-year-old saying, "The reason I am late is because there was a loose horse running down the road in front of our school"?

But looking back, part of my little 5th grade body knew something unexpected was going to happen that day. That quiet I experienced just before the horse appeared, the calmness that came over me, the happy heart I had. I was, somewhere in my unconscious, aware that something good was on the way. And the only reason I was aware of it was because I was open to it. Fact is, at that time, I didn't know any other way to be.

But I grew older and found remaining open to new things is tough work. And sometimes when I'm not careful, my days can grow monotonous and closing myself off seems like the only option in regards to making sense of it all and carving out a quiet corner for myself. Sometimes the daily routine of work, then gym, and then bed (with little variation) can feel more like a sentence than a productive and eventful day, full of potential. Over and over and over again, the same day in and day out. The monotony can turn my spirit sluggish and stubborn and more interested in what's on TV than what's on the horizon. It is very easy for me to slip into autopilot and tune out when really, every day, I need to show up, be present and, through that, become more aware of what is possible.

No matter how ordinary or routine life becomes, though, I have found there is a beauty in the mundane and a calm to the ho-hum ordinary. Whether it is walking the dog or taking out the trash. Answering an email or brushing your hair. Whatever it is, whatever the task or duty or responsibility, be present as you do it. Let it encompass you and know that you are exactly in the right place at the right time. Contrary to popular belief, our job is not to look back and regret nor look forward and worry. All we have to do is stay on our path and have hope that there is something magical right around the corner. So no matter how tempting it might be to drop out, continue on the path and see what magic arises. That's it. It's both that simple and that hard. Maybe the magic will come in the form of a new friend. Maybe it will be a new idea. Or maybe it will just be a moment, a miracle, really, galloping down the middle of your own street providing the child within you with one of your most magical memories ever.