It’s eleven at night and I’m in my favorite chair. I’ve been here most the day, reading. Recently a friend posted that they’d spent their evenings last year re-reading books from their childhood, stating that it was a perfect way to recapture the magic we all too often lose as we grow older. Well, I got inspired. Yesterday I went to the juvenile section of the library and checked out six books. And whereas the ones I got weren’t ones I’d previously read, the fact that I walked out of the library with a lilt in my step convinced me that they were full of magic nonetheless.

As someone who’s hung up on completion, I can’t tell you how satisfying it is to read a kid’s book. Y’all, they’re so SHORT, and the words are SO BIG (the better to delight you with, my dear). You can finish them just like that. This afternoon I completed two whole novels. Well, a collection of short stories and a novel. And whereas the collection of short stories–The Devil’s Storybook by Natalie Babbitt–was both fun and creatively inspiring, the novel was nothing short of miraculous.

The miraculous book–The Invention of Hugo Cabaret by Brian Selznick–is about an orphaned boy who lives in a Paris train station and, unbeknownst to anyone else, works on and repairs the clocks in the station. Taught by his deceased father and his uncle who’s gone missing, Hugo’s a born engineer, a fixer. And, because he’s able to astound others with his slight of hand and disappearing acts, a magician. Although he’s not immediately aware of this last fact. Anyway, Hugo’s main objective is to fix one of his father’s broken projects, a robot of sorts that, when wound up (like a clock), can write with an ink pen. Convinced the robot’s message will change is life forever, Hugo wonders, What will it say?

Wonder. Magic. Mystery. These are the things that are becoming more and more important to me as I grow older. Not that I don’t enjoy a good fact or “cold, hard news.” But as a long-time cynic, I’m tired of things that make me bitter, that make me want to say, “I told you so” or “I already knew that.” Personally, I think we all are and imagine this is one of the reasons we’re so drawn to stories of wizards and unicorns. Despaired by the reality in our lives, we seek refuge in anything that connects us to our innocence and imagination, those parts of ourselves that are forever young and see the world with wide eyes. Those parts of us which require nothing more than a bendy straw to engage in a sword fight or a blanket to build a fort.

So here’s something weird. Less than a week ago I stayed up late surfing the internet and ended up buying two brooches from the same seller, some lady in Michigan. And whereas I’ve been buying brooches to sell, I bought these just for me. This is a horrible business strategy, I know. But, y’all, they’re just so fun. The first brooch is a wizard with a sword.

The second brooch is of the heavens and depicts the sun, moon, stars, and even a shooting star.

So get this shit.

Although several of the children’s books I checked out yesterday were recommended by an article I read online, The Invention of Hugo Cabaret wasn’t. I just stumbled across it in the “award winning” section and got enchanted (the illustrations are fabulous). Well, just as I got to the end of the book today, guess what I found? An illustration that included one of the main characters wearing–of all things!–a cape with the same design of the “heavens” brooch I bought on it. Complete with one shooting star.

Y’all, I actually put the book down and looked around my room. I thought, What’s going on? What are the CHANCES that I’d buy a brooch with a design on it that matches an illustration in a book I randomly picked up at the library? Am I in the Twilight Zone?

But wait, there’s more.

Remember that wizard brooch I bought? Well, the Hugo book mentions a real-life silent movie called A Trip to the Moon, so after I finished the book I watched the movie on YouTube. And, y’all–no kidding–in the final scene there’s a statue of–a wizard.

Now, I’ve experienced my fair share of strange occurrences and synchronicities. Indeed, the further I go the rabbit hole of self-growth and spirituality, the more they occur. And whereas I think they’re “fun,” I also believe synchronicities carry a message for us, something God, the universe, or our subconscious wants us to know. In one of the last paragraphs of the Hugo book, the character with the cape tells our main character, and these are my words not the author’s, “YOU are a magician, a wizard. YOU are an alchemist, someone who can turn anything into gold.” This is what I’m being reminded of more and more, that each of us has the power to decide what kind of world we want to live in–a world full of cold, hard facts, or a world full of miracles and wonder. Likewise, each of us has the power to go through any rotten circumstance and walk away with only the best of it. This is to say, each of us, like a shooting star, can leave the past behind.