I think that in childhood there exists a sense of wonder and magic, in my case not necessarily in all things, but it was, to a certain extent, there. At some point in life this was lost, or faded away into the grey mist of memories long since past. As time passes by, each hour, each day so slowly, each year so quickly, I begin to question whether it was there or not. What prompted this one might ponder. Two things, one of which being this:
and how I seem to be revisiting the "inexplicable connectedness... moments of synchronicity... the hidden presence..." when for so long I have been distant and apart.
(An interesting aside: I googled the name to which this quote was attributed and discovered that Charles de Lint is a Canadian writer, and a rather prolific one at that. I don't get out much...)