I've never understood the cynicism that exists towards magical thinking. While realists and pessimists cry into their coffee and rationalists claim to only believe in what they can prove or debunk, there are those of us who cultivate a deep and abiding relationship to the imaginal.

Even after such a long dark middle ages she resisted the cocoon until finally the gossamer weave was placed gently over her sagging shoulders. She folded herself into it gratefully and balled up to swim her way through the transition.

This dancing beauty is milkweed. Her leaves are toxic but their poison offers food and protection to the grubs that consume them, fat little 'pillars who go on to become beautiful Monarch butterflies.