I was listening to a podcast and the speaker talked about the magic of making things. I was knitting as I listened and I thought about how I can explain to you how looping the yarn this way and that way creates waves and shapes, but in the end it is still kind of magic. We have a tendency (and I include myself in that we) to seek explanations for things and to forget the fun. I know why mixing certain ingredients creates cake, but cake remains a delicious delight each time.
And of course for every time I created a knitted thing or baked thing that worked, I can recall ones that did not. Some of them I know what went wrong and dsome remain mysteries.
But each act of making a thing is a journey of hope. I go in expecting success. And that in itself is a kind of magic.