Everyday magic

“This world, after all our science and sciences, is still a miracle, wonderful, inscrutable, magical and more, to whosoever will think of it.” Thomas Carlyle

The quote came from yesterday's diary page, which featured a Renaissance painting of St. Jerome - who was a translator, so not a performer of miracles, or even a man of science but anyway I liked the quote (and the picture too as it happens).

And it set me thinking about everyday magic - the miracles that occur every day - like the birth of a baby (that's my first-born at a very young age). Yes there are too many of this particular miracle, but it is a miracle anyway. And it doesn't happen to most people that often - twice in my case, but nevertheless it's an everyday, every second miracle. And I suspect that even the midwives, doctors and nurses who see it every day still regard it as such. Science can explain it all - we now know exactly how babies are conceived and how they develop in the womb and how they are born. But that still doesn't really explain does it, how a whole person just didn't exist and then one day there he is - a beautiful living, breathing miracle. The moment is indescribable. It is inexplicable - "wonderful, inscrutable, magical and more." Ditto I guess, though in not quite as uplifting a way, the fact of death - that suddenly this complete person is no more. I have never seen anyone die, but I have seen dogs die and it was amazing how their eyes changed from having personality, to showing an absence of being. You can understand why people turn to religion to explain it all, because even though science does explain so much - there is still an overriding sense of awe, mystery and - yes, magic - about it all. I understand the science of astronomy (well on a novice level) but my mind just cannot really conceive of those vast spaces and those vast periods of time. The night sky is a magical thing. Just as I cannot conceive of the mystery of birth and death, evolution and a whole host of other things in between.

And then there is everyday magic - the magical things that happen every day. The sun rises, the birds sing, aeroplanes fly - again I sort of understand the science, but it's still miraculous to me that that great big metal object can get off the ground and fly. Slightly more miraculous than huge boats floating on the sea, but only just. We went to the market yesterday and I was struck by how many skyscrapers are rising into the city skyline - and my granddaughter and I looked at the cranes on top of those buildings and wondered about the men operating them - and how did they get it all up there? Why doesn't it all fall over? Everyday magic.

And then there is food. There used to be a program on television for children - many decades ago - in which Professor Julius Sumner Miller used things that happened in the kitchen to demonstrate various scientific concepts. They were very entertaining and educational. But what he emphasised and what I remember was the magic, the wonder of it all. Apply heat to food and it changes in a myriad of ways, add yeast to flour and you get bread. So next time you are cooking the dinner think of the magic tricks you are performing.

So to conclude - back to the picture of St. Jerome in his study. The artist had paint and a brush and with just these two tools he made something miraculous. The saint looks out at you in a slightly peeved way - have we interrupted him? It's like a snapshot of a moment in time. I'm sure you can do a scientific analysis of the layers of paint, of how the artist may have changed his mind as he went along, here and there, of what paint he used, etc. etc. but none of that explains to me how he got the expression on the face, and the creases in his sleeve. It's a miracle, though hardly everyday.

Everyday magic is cooking dinner and later on hearing the kookaburras laugh their last laugh as they go to bed.