Magic Music

This morning felt different, like a veil had been lifted. I slept a little longer than usual and woke up in a pain free body. Some back pain that had been plaguing me for a few days was noticeably gone. The sun had already crossed up over the horizon and I had no desire to listen to the news.
Instead, I put some music on. I do this fairly often but today it was the only thing that made sense. The absence of pain after days of aching were cause for celebration - not negativity on the airwaves. As I get older, I celebrate in ways that don’t include alcohol or loud parties (thank gawd), and I decided I would eat soft boiled eggs with toast fingers instead of oatmeal whilst listening to John Barry’s movie soundtrack from Out of Africa. I was in the mood for some magic and a bit of decadent gooey cholesterol laden saturated fat. (YOLO). 
It wasn’t long, in fact, only half way through my first perfectly cooked farm fresh egg, when the show began. I can see across the bay from my seat at our table and as though keeping time with the rising notes of the string orchestra, this truly majestic local bald eagle soared gracefully past the tree tops lining the shore, followed almost immediately by four Trumpeter Swans gliding by in a graceful chorus line of snow white, like avian angels on a Sunday morning flypast. Martha Graham couldn’t have choreographed the moment any better.
The westward bound swans disappeared but the eagle continued to entertain me through the second egg and last bit of my homemade spelt toast smothered in Chili Sauce as though he wanted to make my breakfast even more pleasurable than it already was, considering my rare departure from oatmeal laden with chia seeds and wild blueberries that are pretty much the norm around here. 
As the music played on in the background of my “Wild Kingdom” moment, it got me to thinking how many other magical moments have occurred in tandem with this particular album. It has been a favourite for many years. Sunday mornings seem particularly apropos for this collection. It  accompanied many coffees by the fire in my Deep Cove living room while watching passing sailboats heading up Indian Arm in North Vancouver. It soothed my labour pains while giving birth to my only child in 1994. It has competed for centre stage with noisy Kookaburras and Sulphur-crested Cockatoos on steamy Queensland mornings on the patio.
Occasionally my Mick will take me for a slow romantic spin on the kitchen floor when “Let the Rest of the World Go By” plays and I am transported to Kenya with Karen Von Blixen and Denys Finch-Hatten - their heartbreaking story of great love and tragedy filling my own heart to bursting. 
How can a simple collection of musical compositions seem to turn an ordinary morning into such profound and joyous capsules of love and beauty? There is only one answer. 
Magic. 
Simple. Pure. Magic.